


Twisted

by OKami_hu



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: M/M, Non Consensual, Spark Sex, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:51:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One death paves the road for two more... 'Cade and Bee both fall deeper into madness, hating each other with passion but that isn't the only emotion their sparks hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with generalcordovan(lj)/LandRayDepthCharge. 
> 
> The title says all, really.

"Stop right there, Barricade!" 

Caught. As intentional as it ever could be; miles from town, outside of an abandoned underground hangar filled with WWII-era explosives that had long since gone out of commission. The Ford Mustang police interceptor paused, the diffused glow of his taillights illuminating the area behind him as he considered, and thought, and smirked all to himself. Being the last of ones kind on a planet containing six billion squishable insects all whom wanted him dead tended to make one go a little batty....so he had begun to exact his own revenge. Barricade had been the one responsible for Sam Witwicky's family's death; it had been written on the wall in dripping arterial spray, 'Revenge is a bitch' and then a scraggly heart, followed by Barricade's name. Now he had taken Sam himself and had led Bumblebee on a wild car chase out into the middle of Bumfuck, Egypt, it seemed. 

Rasp, tense words erupted from the black and white panels. "Who is to force me to do so?" 

"I'm going to rip you to pieces, you slagheap!" Bumblebee roared with pure rage, but the careful listener could detect the pain vibrating in the voice. He was torn with grief - the Witwicky's knew everything, and liked him, too, accepted him, trusted him... and he let them down. He let them _die_. Barricade had to pay, but first... Sam needed to get into safety. "It's not them you needed, I know. We killed your comrades, I was the one to beat you up... let the boy go. He's just a 'squishy'. Take it out on me! Let him out!" The blue optics fixed on Sam's tear-stained face, who was still frantically clawing at the police car's door. Not that he could do any damage, even make the Decepticon wince... 

Without a moments pause, five hundred horses beneath a jet black hood roared, torque spiking as his RPMs shot through the roof. The fight between rubber and cement ensued as Barricade kept his front brakes engaged, using his own 425-pounds-per-square-inch torque to spin his tail around, stopping once he was facing the panicked Camaro. "You think this is about you? Autobot fool!" came the snarled reply. "It was not just you and your little friends who caused this, it was also _him_ , and _them_. Samuel James Witwicky, and that William Lennox."

Barricade only found it amusing that the young boy in his cab still attempted escape. Hopelessly locked doors and a mostly plastic and metal interior; all Sam could do to cause any amount of pain was claw at the leather seats, and even then, that was but an afterthought. "My revenge on you will come regardless of this little pest's fate!" 

"Let him go! Barricade, you coward, you'd choose the easy way, killing something as defenseless as a human?!" Bee was indeed close to panic. He was worried for Sam, so worried! They grew close, became real friends, and he wow not to let any harm befall him! What a fool he had been... He should have listened more carefully, he should have been there, when the black mech took the boy hostage...! Every nerve inside Bee's body was sizzling, his CPUs whirred at top speed, trying to somehow turn the situation. Barricade could easily kill Sam... Way too easily. 

"Let him go, and kill me, then! Don't tell me you're afraid that he'll run...!" Decepticons were prone to act too impulsively, having a high regard of themselves - none of them could stand an insult aimed at their fighting abilities. Bee prayed that this time, the same would happen - he' have gladly died, if that meant that Sam would live. 

The snarl that resulted was a combination of metal grinding and an engine rev, internals rattling to accent the already dangerous sound. Barricade held his pride, but what the Mustang Saleen had that the majority of Decepticon soldiers did not was brains. He had shown over and over in the course of the war that he was highly intelligent and cunning, and just as treacherous if not more so than Starscream himself. He fought dirty and he did what he had to do win -- including stepping on others that were in his way. Winning was winning, regardless of the method or means. "Pfeh!" he spat, headlights flashing. "There is no sport in killing a defenseless Autobot, despite my amusement at squishing the fleshbags." Barricade growled again, his voice rising in tone and volume. "You have failed your human over and over again, with the parentals, and then with the abduction. History repeats itself for you, Bumble _brat_ , and let it do so once more; you've failed!"

The Ford's next move may have been unexpected. To kill, one might have assumed him to boot Sam out and then run him over, but such a merciful mode of death was not granted. Instead, the white on black police cruiser began to shift; the doors flung open as the internal cab began to shift hopelessly, denying the Witwicky boy his avenue to freedom. Hands and arms reformed and with them came legs, and by then, finally did Barricade's internals suddenly come together with force. Standing, the black Decepticon felt the humans body pulverize to a barely recognizable gelatinous mass, a soupish mess that filled every crevice of his chest with an explosion of heat and wetness. Parts shifted as the transformation completed itself and where there was no room for it, dark crimson blood sprayed into the air; then stillness. Gore began to ooze down the length of his body as Barricade threw back his head and laughed, the sound a haunting soundtrack to the morbid and macabre scene to be witnessed. " _Failed._ "

The horrible sound of flesh tearing, bones splitting, the sickening, wet noise of internal organs bursting under the pressure, and Sam's last shriek was echoing in the air - or at least, Bee's audio receptors registered just that. He felt... He didn't feel anything. Everything in him was silent, oddly, terrifyingly calm. His processors refused to work with this data - it had to be false input, it had to be... It happened way too quickly. The Camaro's visual sensors fixed themselves on the tall, dark form, now covered with crimson goo and liquid. The thin streams of red trickled down on the mighty chest... down on his abdominal section, his groins, his strong thighs and legs, to finally pool around his clawed feet. The ground soaked it up thirstily.

Bee's servos hitched a bit, he began to tremble, the pretty yellow car wrecked by soft tremors. He slowly began to feel. His ventilation was coughing, unable to cool his core anymore, and his spark was twisting in its chamber... The small Autobot transformed as well, and with a fearful and at the same time, heart-wrenching scream, he aimed his cannon at Barricade.

His mind was a mess, his neuro-grid burning from the intensity of the emotions. Never before was the little scout so murderous, so keen on hacking, tearing and ripping another of his kind - _no! THAT cursed kind!_ \- to the tiniest little pieces. Sam died... Sam was murdered, Sam, SAM! Bumblebee failed to protect him... He began to fire at the black mech, still screaming. His whole system was overwritten, and the main directive was crystal clear: kill, kill, kill! And deep inside, the agony was screaming as well, eating Bee alive from the inside, like rust. _Failed_. 

The enemy's reaction was swift, and Barricade launched his heavier, bulkier form into motion. He leapt aside with a snarl and dodged the first volley of cannon blasts, hocks and stifles bending with force as he maneuvered his weight down and around, ducking a second blast, only to waste no more time in being shot at. The Saleen's revenge on the Witwicky's was complete, evidenced by the shuddering warmth trickling down the insides of his legs even then. Barricade had never used his transformation sequence to kill anyone before, and the knowledge that the fleshlings broke so easily beneath the unforgiving metal gave him a rush. Anyone who ever stepped into his cab would suffer greatly.

Barricade darted forward, going low, blood-soaked, blood drunk, aiming his shoulder and upper arm at Bumblebee's stomach; the center of gravity. 

Normally, the scout would have been more than capable to evade such an attack - but the searing hot pain sinking its merciless claws into his very soul made him blind. He kept on firing, cursing Barricade and all his companions, the stars, the AllSpark on Cybertronian. Bee simply ignored his battle computer's functions all but one: aiming. The black mech had to die. Now! He had to burn!

Just the forceful, brutal contact stopped him; but then, his fingers came down with surprising force, eager to rip the Mustang's neck-wires apart. 

Barricade felt the jarring impact with his enemy and immediately went to work. As soon as Bumblebee was on his back on the ground, Barricade sat up, viciously jerking his upper body to the side to try and avoid the Chevrolet's clawing fingers. "Be still, Autobrat!" roared the Saleen S281, grabbing at Bumblebee's hands. One caught and the heavier Decepticon slammed it to the dirt, pinning it while his other did the same to Bee's right wrist. Barricade straddled the Autobot's waist, smearing the yellow armor with crimson, Sam's blood. "Poor, poor little Autobot," he taunted slowly, thighs gripping the Camaro's hips. "All alone with no one to protect -- not that you did any protecting here." 

However, Bumblebee's strength was doubled by the pain. He twisted and trashed, not making it any bit easier to the Decepticon to hold him. "You sparkless, fragging slagheap!" he screamed. "You'll go down, down I say! You'll choke on your own fluids, and scream for mercy with your shattered vocalizers! Do you think we'll let you roam free? Do you?! Rust shall eat your insides!" 

The red smear was _itching_ on his yellow frame. He wanted to move away, and rip off his own armor, to get away from that terrible crawling feeling, which began to root into his neuro-grid. 

_Squirmy little rat_. The decal along Barricade's forearm began to split, separating the words 911-Emergency-Response as the plate lifted and shifted, revealing a compartment. The Saleen, however, was forced to situate himself differently in order to keep holding his prey down. Snarling, he arched his back and readied how he was going to do it, and in a flash of motion he was up and his lower body had moved; armor plated knees pinned Bumblebee's arms, freeing both terrifyingly clawed hands. "I am shaking in fear, truly."

Barricade reached into the compartment and drew out a loop of chain, wrapping it first around the Camaro's right wrist. Then, the Ford Mustang slid back, snatching the yellow one's other wrist in one taloned hand. In a blink, both wrists were bound. 

Bee snarled and squirmed viciously, trying to shake off the chains, though with no avail. But he was far from defeated, far from it! His life was wasted anyway, more humiliation won't count, and maybe Prime will be merciful, and execute him personally for his failure... The scout activated his inner radio, and began to signal to his companions. 

Barricade's internal alarms went off; a signal was being sent. "Ah, ah," the Saleen hissed, and Bumblebee heard nothing but static. "No you _don't_."

The entrance to the underground garage was right there. The Camaro, with his wrists bound, could not transform -- the chains binding them were not of Earth-make and had the endurance and durability of Cybertronian armor. Even if Bee got up to run, he would not get far. The monstrous visage of the police interceptor sank down, mere inches apart. "Hurts, doesn't it?" he growled low, grating, rasping. "To lose everything?" And with that said, he stood up and brought the yellow Autobot up with him, shoving him with all of his might backwards towards the ramp that lead inside the lowered garage. Oh, such _fun_ the twisted Saleen would have with his little guest. 

The yellow mech kept on trying, but his transmitter was good as dead. Where did the other get such disruptors...? Now, he was indeed alone... for the time being. 

However, even if he winced visibly, the scout still had some strength inside. He crouched low, shifting his weight, still fighting, still cursing the black mech... Though, maybe his intensity was slowly, barely noticeably fading. The events started to catch up on a deeper level, the grief from the loss finding its way into the logic centers, too, numbing his body and mind alike. Barricade had to pay! But Sam... Sam won't come back. 

The terrible finality was beginning to register. 

"Give it up, sparkling, it's over!" rang the terrible deep voice of Bumblebee's aggressor as he advanced slowly, his tri-jointed legs moving him with a sense of straightforward grace that only a mech of his rank and skill could achieve. Barricade's steps were slow, drawn out, and as he stalked closer and closer the sun glinted off of the blood still coated and smeared across his coal black and ivory white armor. Police doorpanels were flicked, speckled with arterial spray and tiny pieces of bone shown here and there; stark white bits amidst a midnight backdrop. "You charge is dead, pain and torment awaits you, and after I finish with you tonight you can rest assured in knowing that William Lennox, within a week's time, will be mourning the violent and macabre death of his female mate and their little spawnling." 

"What are you trying to achieve, Barricade?" Bee spoke up quietly. "This won't bring Megatron back. This won't bring Frenzy, or Blackout back, or any of your fallen comrades! You'll maybe able to kill William Lennox... But then, you'll be hunted down and killed by the Autobots with the same cruelty you handled Sam Witwicky with...!" 

His voice broke on the name. His ventilations malfunctioned again, drawing forth a hitching sound, surprisingly alike to human sobbing. Mechs had no tears, but their pain was the same as that of the organics'. 

"Torture me as much as you want - it doesn't matter. I won't give you any satisfaction!" 

"Oh, we'll see," Barricade chuckled, bending to pick up the end of the thirty-foot length of chain. "We'll see. Because --" the Saleen trailed off then, taking his quadoptics off of his enemy long enough to toss that end of line over a thick rafter some ten feet above their heads. "It may not bring Megatron back, and it may not bring Frenzy or Blackout back," again the bastard Decepticon engaged in a pregnant pause to loop the chain back over twice more. "And it will mean my end, this is all very true." Barricade then pulled hard, hoisting his captive's hands above his head. "But it will make me feel...a whole lot better about the situation."

Crimson-stained-black stalked over to the wall, attaching a loop of the chain to a locking grapple to set it in tight. "After all," continued the muscle car. "If I've stepped over the line, I might as well run the _whole mile_." 

"Your processors burned out while you were hiding like a petro-rat," Bumblebee spat, pulling at his chains. He tried his radio again, but he knew that the concrete shields him, not much will get through, if anything. Still, he had to try. "The war is over. The AllSpark is no more, and Megatron is stone cold dead. And here you are, mighty Decepticon warrior, chasing delusions!" His voice was dripping with sarcasm. 

That got his attention. "Delusions? _Delusions?_ " The beast threw his head back and laughed wetly. "Hah! Your grief provides such a fanciful illusion; suck it up, boy! Wake up and smell reality. Do you call this a delusion?" Upon the word 'this' Barricade did scoop the ridge of his hand along his own chest, holding it up to show the still soaking redness that glimmered in the artificial lightning. The Saleen positioned himself before his pretty yellow captive, smearing the blood on his chest. "Seems _real_ to me." 

The blue optics went wide, and the scout let out a small screeching squeak, moving as far back as he could. Please, no... No more. That drying blood and ground flesh was... a human, a friend! "You rustworm...! Leave the dead bodies lie! Would you do that to your own fallen, too? Bathe in their fluids?!"

Somewhere deep inside, part of him was considering to double over and empty his fuel tanks on the floor. This was disgusting. If he had to watch Barricade prance around covered with S- human remnants, Bee thought, his valiant efforts to hold on and withstand the torture were going to be put to a seriously test. 

The coppery smell of machine and hemoglobin permeated, still fresh as some of it even boiled and steamed away when dripped upon a warm internal component. Barricade was covered in it, inside and out; belts wove and moved, and the bits and pieces of pulverized Witwicky only served as extra lubricant; with the Saleen Mustang so close, Bumblebee's olfactory sensors had no choice but to pick up the smell of well-oiled machine and death. To the verbal assault Barricade chose to say nothing, instead remaining but a hairs breadth away from his captive. Psychological torture...this was his favorite past time. One crimson-coated talon lifted, drawing little blood-patterns along the Camaro's cheek. 

At that exact moment, the yellow mech wished if he had the exact same sharp dentals, as some of the Decepticons - Barricade included - to bite the offending claws off, and spit them into his tormentor's face. He wrenched his head away, offlining his smell receptors. The blood burned, and the black mech probably knew it. He had been an interrogator, trained to break the sparks of his enemies.

Bumblebee felt tired. He had burned a lot of energy in the past fifteen minutes, he wished if he could just collapse, curl up and _die_ \- no. Not yet. He wanted to recharge, to let the Sun's rays cleanse his armor with their unique power, and feed his weapon to the maximum, that he could melt the Decepticon bastard to a smoking heap of waste. He wanted to give him back the exact amount of pain he caused to his human victims.

"Back off, you greasy piece of junk...!" 

"This is vaguely reminiscent of the other casualties I've caused here," the Decepticon rumbled, eyeing the gaps in armor, mapping out where he may start the pain. "Human blood; I am familiar with it. It is not universal unlike our fluids, which are mostly all the same. There are different types, O, A, B, AB, and then negatives of each except for O. When given a transplant the humans must have the same kind, lest they wish for their internals to become cottage cheese." Barricade ran those sharp fingertips down along the sensitive wiring and struts that made up Bee's neck. "It smells the same. Witwicky's was the same as the little girl I hit two days ago. Hers was the same as the unfortunate soccer mom who walked by the wrong alleyway at night a week before that. And hers was the same as the man who tried to break my window a week and a half ago. Then there was the pile of twisted burning metal that was the busload of human spawn after I had bullied the driver off of the highway and into a ditch. That was not a pleasant scent to detect, burning flesh." 

That did not help at all. The casual way Barricade talked about his kills, the loss of lives, as if those humans had been mere bothersome insects, almost made Bee gape with horror and disgust. 

"So the rumors were true. You did kill Sparklings back on Cybertron." Step back, you slagger, just one step back, just one...! The scout was trying his chains again, but this time, he wanted to know if the rafter could hold his weight. 

That comment brought a wild cackle to the air. "Oh, my, you still haven't figured that out?" Barricade scoffed. "Autobots as stupid as ever. I went through that Care Institution and tore apart those screaming little bratlings with my _bare hands_ and the caretakers could do nothing to stop me."

The rafter creaked, but held, but who knew how long it would last. Barricade struck the first time then, biting down on Bumblebee's neck. 

The little mech shrieked from surprise, from pain... He didn't expect this. The dental spikes dug into his sensitive wires, and just the mere presence of the other's metal practically _inside_ him made Bee... let's just say, more than edgy. He felt a few thin cables snap, the ends sizzling... It didn't hurt that much yet... but that didn't mean, it won't, soon. The neck was one of the most sensitive areas of a transformer. 

Barricade let go and took a half step back, going back to peering at the squirmy little bastard's armor. A gap there, he could hook his all-purpose tools into that and go a tad to the left to access raw nerve circuitry. And that crevice right there in the Camaro's stomach, the fuel line was there. The twisted Saleen then looked back up at Bee's face, letting the thumb of his right hand reform into his multi-faceted interrogation weapon; that thing was feared and well known among the Autobot ranks. Again the captor stepped forward, jamming that thumb into a crevice along the Chevrolet's side, meanwhile getting close enough for their chests to touch. "This will be the longest night of your life."

~tbc~


	2. Chapter 2

His arms... hurt. Well, alright, his whole body, every joint, the hydraulics, the musculature was aching. The funny thing was, nobody ever touched them. It's been a long night indeed... under Barricade's tender care. The black Decepticon, wearing the disguise of law and order did not hold back – after all, he had no information to extract from his victim, he merely played, enjoyed the scout's agony. 

Bee, of course, did his best. He kept silent, save an occasional grunt, when the pain was threatening to shut off his consciousness, and one short scream, when something around his spark chamber blew, offlining him for a minute. But Barricade was an expert in his job – he brought the yellow mech back, and continued with his twisted fun. 

Now, the little Autobot was actually happy to feel his arms pulled by his own weight, as his legs were too weak to hold him up properly any longer. His internal repairs worked quietly, regenerating what could be restored, and warning him of what couldn't – Bee, after a while, switched the diagnostics off. They blocked his view. Pain was still lingering, but compared to what he had to endure earlier, it was welcomed. He forced himself to look up and take a look around, searching for his captor's menacing form. 

Barricade had thoroughly enjoyed the pain he knew he was causing. It was admirable, though, how silent Bumblebee was. Very rare was it that the police interceptor was treated with a truly tough mech; all too often was he presented with a stony-faced captive who spit out strong words but broke within five minutes. Barricade was an established interrogator; he knew enough to kill a mech and bring him back online, or keep him alive for days, and days, and days under constant pressure and torment and not _allow_ him to die. If there was one thing that the Ford Mustang was known for, it was his talent at causing pain.

During the entire ordeal, he talked to the Autobot. He described in detail the day he'd killed the sparklings on Cybertron, and while working with raw nerve endings in the Camaro's side, Barricade told of other offspring that he'd destroyed. Of many species. Of _any_ species. Nobody knew it because he was so good at getting in and out of an area without detection, but Barricade was a babykiller, or so they'd say on Earth. He relayed tales what seemed tall but in reality were as real as they got; he described his occasional breeding exploits in the past, during which Barricade budded off another spark with a partner, then killed his lover and ate the spark they created.

He was as sick in the head as any self respecting Decepticon, despite seeming someone normal.

But then, who knew what was fallacy and what was true, anymore.

The Saleen S281 had left his Chevrolet captive alone for a while and disappeared, confident in his restraints. An hour, maybe two, passed by with slow monotony until finally the black and white's heavy footsteps echoed along in the dank and dreary darkness. Barricade tossed aside the hose he'd brought with him, but said nothing. 

"Back, you filthy murderer...?" Bee's voice was quiet, his optics wavered a little, but he still radiated defiance. Not a wonder he was in Prime's team - he only picked the very best. All through those stories, the scout resisted the strange feeling around his fuel tanks - humans would have called it nausea - and didn't listen. He was sure Barricade is only playing for breaking him in the inside. Those tales had to be fabrications, in most cases... Surely it would have caused wilder rumors, if the black mech had committed all those raids on the Youth Sectors. 

One thing, on the other hand, truly disturbed him. Those last stories, about Barricade, and his mate... The interrogator described their bonding sessions in vivid detail, and Bee, for his greatest disgust, found himself listening to the deep, rumbling voice. His mind even acted on its own, conjuring up images, to match the words... Barricade had a way with his words, that was for sure. 

Barricade, at the time, had indeed taken notice. He observed his prey with malicious intent, noting every change, no matter how subtle and Bumblebee had been far less adamant about ignoring him during the stories of his pleasure exploits. "I would not leave such a delicious piece of Autobot meat hanging for the wolves to devour," the Ford replied. "You're still mine to chew on until I'm finished with you."

The Decepticon screwed the end of the hose onto a spigot in the wall and jumped, crouching on a heavy storage crate that creaked with his weight. Water poured from the end of the hose in Barricade's hand. "Shall I continue where I left off?" 

"Do what you want. You'll never see me break." The yellow mech was smiling, even. So what if he died here? It didn't matter. His optics cautiously eyed the water, trickling to the hard concrete floor. There was a lot of water around... moisture in the air, a few broken pipes leaking the clear fluid, rainwater making its way into the cracks of the walls... The old garage was rather damp. Not that water alone could damage a transformer. Too much of it for too long, yes, that could cause rust, but even with a torn inner circuitry, they couldn't be sorted out, not like Earth machines. 

Barricade's haunting laugh echoed. "I am not trying to get you to _break_ , foolish Autobrat. Obviously you've yet to figure that out." One hand reached back into a storage compartment, from where he drew a sponge that looked somewhat miniscule clutched in his claws. Ponderingly, he doused it with water. "I do not want anything from you." 

"Oh yes you want. Good entertainment. I hope that I'm not providing that, now, am I?" Bee chuckled, and shifted, standing up. Some of his energy seeped back by now; he locked his joints and let them take his whole weight. Robots didn't tire like humans did. The tension in his arms eased, and it was a welcomed relief. 

The S281 police cruiser seemed to smirk and turned the hose to himself. Evidently he'd gotten tired of the coagulating and drying blood and entrails gumming up his internal processes. "Oh, I was very entertained, and I still intend to be entertained. Then I suppose I will let you go to run off to your little offended friends so you can cry and tell them what the bad, bad Mustang did to you." The way he said it even sounded funny to himself, because he chuckled under his breath. Rivulets of bloody water began to run down the crate and onto the slightly uneven ground. 

Bee didn't even answer. Half of what the malicious mech was saying will be true... He'll run back to his comrades and tell them what happened... But he was not going to cry. He didn't even look at the Saleen, he was watching the water, tainted with copper trickling down, and forming a small stream. That's all what was left. As if the human, who was once a dear friend, a beloved companion never existed. The thought hurt and Bee shifted a bit, becoming aware of the red smear on his armor once again... and, that he was standing a bit lower than Barricade, and the water, obeying gravity, was flowing toward him. 

Utterly unafraid of his captive, due to Barricade's complete control of the situation, the Saleen did not hesitate to let armor plating shift out of the way, opening his chest and the vital mechanical 'organs' therein to prying eyes and flowing water. He started to scrub at the remnants of what had once been a living, breathing human being. 

Mesmerized blue optics followed the water coming closer and closer, with bits of flesh and splinters of bones in the stream... That was too much for Bumblebee. He stepped back, trying to get out of the way. His air intakes hummed harshly, betraying his distress. It felt so absurd, so unreal. Primus damn it, a living being died, one who meant half the world to him, and now, he was practically standing in the boy's remains...! How twisted was that?! 

And amidst all of this, Barricade was _humming_. A casual tune that one might hear on the Earthen radio stations. He had gone crazy, that was the only explanation -- it wasn't that he was just inherently evil, though that didn't help matters, but the Saleen had bats in his belfry as far as most would be concerned. Nothing bothered him. Death didn't scare him. And judging by his willingness (or assuming of which) to let Bumblebee go after he was finished showed that he didn't give two shits and a half if the Autobots came after him. Barricade pretended to not noticed at first, but looked up with faux concern and said, "Is that bothering you?" 

"It would bother every single being possessing a soul...!" Bee rasped before he could stop himself. "But yours is long gone, your spark chamber is empty, I'm sure...!" He hopped back a little bit, adamant on avoiding the tainted water. "I'm sure you're immensely happy now, slagheap." 

The Saleen seemed to pout sadistically. "I'm hardly sparkless." More innards shifted, and his spark chamber opened up, glowing blue with the life within. "See? No pinecone or lump of coal." 

The scout made another mistake. He looked up, and stared at the beautiful, brightly glowing orb seated in the black chest. Sparks were the embodiment of infinite beauty, their light holding so much, a touch of the AllSpark, the greatest gift ever given to sentient beings. And they were the greatest gifts one could receive - the sign of complete trust and the deepest love. At least, for the Autobots, it was. They didn't show off their core, unless the one facing them was a mate. It was not done. 

The white light beckoned to Bee, and he stared, feeling touched for a fleeting moment... But reality registered in the next one, and he shook his head with a hiss. "Whore." The human term made so much sense now. 

Oh, oh, but the Autobot was just throwing ways to torment him at his attacker. Just offering them up and making it worse for himself -- Barricade was in heaven here with this foolish young sparkling! The bloody water bothered him, the stories bothered him, seeing the Saleen's very core when it should never have been bared in the first place _bothered_ him, and the police cruiser knew it. Twitchy, Barricade tilted his head to the side, amused at the term usage. "Am I?" Chest still wide open -- it would be so _easy_ to kill him if only Bumblebee could get an arm free -- the black and white specter leapt off of the crate, dripping wet, and slithered up to the yellow. "Am I, now?" 

"You're the filthiest, most despicable creature I've ever known, and also, you're insane," Bee sneered. "Your CPUs got all messed up. Probably they were magnetized? Suppose you had your head way too long up in Megatron's metal ass." The insults helped a little - they eased the tension. English was sure a creative language. 

And, he was not about to admit, that his own Spark, hidden well behind three layers of armor and three securely sealed locks was arching up with longing, wanting to touch another, unite with it, and share the pain, that it would lessen. Sparkbonding was not just about simple bodily pleasure. When two souls united, they interacted as well, soothing, healing, comforting one another. 

Only a breath away, Barricade listened as Bumblebee spat useless insults at him. Telling him he was insane was as monotonous as telling him he was the color black. Or the absence of color black. The Saleen shook that rattled thought tangent out of his head before he chose to follow it. He found his inability to control his own thoughts disturbing; after living millennia based only on Barricade's utter power over himself, to lose a vital piece of that was devastating. He hovered closer, his still-open chest cavity only the barest of inches away from Bumblebee's armor. "But a mind is a terrible thing to lose." 

"Well, yours is definitely not there anymore," the scout stated gravely, as he moved as far back as the chain let him. The beautiful bright light was so tempting, it radiated warmth... It didn't matter that it was located in the enemy's chest. "I'm not even sure why I try. You obviously can't comprehend anything. Maybe a good hit on your head could help!" 

A spark was a spark, wasn't it? Even if it was attached to a malfunctioning enemy brain that had more than likely twisted it to be black to the core. It was still a spark. Chrome claws darted upwards at the last statement, grasping at the angled yellow chestplates, sharp ends scraping and digging. "I comprehend perfectly. I can still perform naturally mutating algorithms and do the math completely in my head without a console. I can still go through the Paten Theorum and get to number 1 in under an hour, again, in my head. I can still see, smell, feel, and hear and take in all of that information to comprehend it with precision -- and if I am not mistaken," at this point, the bastard black and white pressed his chest against the Camaro's. "You do, too. You desire something. What? I can only guess at this point." 

The yellow mech drew in a sharp intake of air, and wildly shook his head. "Get off of me, slagger, get off! This is gross! Like I need anything that belongs to you, well, maybe except your head torn off... Or that core ripped out!" Still, he couldn't control the heat rising in his inside, the fuel pumps speeding up a bit. But until his Spark was protected by the three seals, he was safe. A mechanical body obeyed better to the mind's orders than an organic one - it was not as treacherous. 

Barricade's hushed, gravelly voice turned into a growl, which escalated into a snarl, and then into a mechanical screech that had dogs barking a mile away. No. He was not sane. He never would be again. The precise cause of Barricade's psychosis was unknown by both him and his captive, and only a medic with proper scanning technology could tell what had caused it. But the Saleen didn't have that luxury, he only had Bumblebee. Silver shards as sharp as knives, able to cleave through human flesh as though it were tissue paper, began tearing and clawing at the armor of the yellow's chest, digging madly. 

Now, Bee screamed. He seal twisted inside, it hurt, it burned, it was unbearable! With brute force, one could tear the chestplate apart, but it required a great deal of strength... Strength Barricade, as much a capable warrior he was, lacked. But this only added to Bee's agony - he could feel his armor slowly deforming, instead of just snapping with a sharp wave of pain. 

"Let me go!" He squealed helplessly, twisting and trashing, fighting to stay conscious. "I'll-" There was a sharp, metallic click, and the chestplate loosened. Bee stood trembling and stiff, his ventilation roaring. "Barricade, no." 

Hearing that clack of metal giving obediently, the Saleen police cruiser took his hands away and tilted his head. He seemed...amused. "I could kill you in an instant, boy, but that isn't what you're afraid of, now is it?" the haunting voice crooned, almost caring, almost loving, if it weren't for that sick, twisted undertone that was reminiscent of boiling black; a demon, by human lore, pure unadulterated evil. "You fear something else." Sharpened talons dug at the newly widened spaces in yellow armor, pulling at it, seeing if it would open. "Something far more _personal_." 

That was it. The new wave of pain made the scout attempt a desperate attack: He grabbed his chains firmly, then, letting the rafter take his weight, he brought his legs up with as much force as he could muster, kicking into Barricade's midsection. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" the Camaro shrieked, on the verge of CPU overload. 

That had been wholly unexpected, and as such, Barricade took the attack without defense. Knocked back, he clattered onto his back on the floor, chestplates snapping closed with worried finality as the Saleen slid to a stop, blinking. So! Bee hadn't broken yet after all! Cursed and backwards logic be damned, Barricade rolled gracefully back onto his feet, facing his captive once more. "Can't be having that, young one," he purred, quadoptics flicking around the room, searching, analyzing. "Now can we?" Another thirty feet of chain dropped from his left arm into a waiting hand, and he pondered. 

Primus damn his resourceful aft...! Bumblebee was shivering and glaring - that was all he could do. He was up for a fight, to his last air intake, or until he got perfectly immobilized, whichever happened first, but he was NOT about to just submit to that filthy blackguard! 

Unfortunately, Barricade had been tormenting others for eons. This...while valiant, but was little more than a temporary setback. Absently twirling the chainlink some, the Ford Mustang stalked around Bumblebee in a slow, wide arch, staying just out of kicking range. "I do wonder," he mused aloud, steadily moving behind his captive. "How you plan on kicking me when I'm behind you." Without waiting for a response or a realization he darted forward and pressed his front to the other's back, the chain looping across the front of Bee's ankle joints. He swiftly looped it twice, no doubt without a fight, but yanked hard to pull them tight. 

No matter how much he squirmed, the yellow mech's legs were now secured. His slender frame was shaking with anger... and, though it wasn't apparent, with fear. Bee offlined his optics and wow that he will not let his tormentor past the last lock. He'd rather die from the pain, but he won't be defeated by sheer brutality. 

He replayed a few cherished moments inside - Ratchet's gentle hands, Jazz's laughter, Ironhide's praises and the wise, comforting words of Prime, to drain strength from them. The other memories... remained in the back of his mind. He feared, that if they overwhelm him, he'll break under the terrible burden of guilt and grief. 

Now more safely secured, the Saleen straightened up and walked back around to the front. "I will admit, my respect for you grows by the nanoclick." Barricade was genuinely impressed. Rare it was for him to encounter valiance and courage of this kind -- but was it real courage or was it… fear? Getting close once more, the psychotic Decepticon returned to scrabbling at Bee's chestplates. "Give it up. Open up for me and you're free. _Free_." 

The large blue optics came back online, and the yellow frame tensed up. Free. Free to go. Free to race back, warn the others, save William Lennox and his family. Only a moment after did he realize, that it's surely an empty promise. But hope is hard to kill. 

"You'll... let me go?" he asked quietly, watching the other's faceplate, trying to sense if he meant what he said. "If I comply. I'm free to go, then...?" 

"Submit to me," Barricade hissed in reply "and the chains come off and I step back. No strings attached." 

That didn't really make as much sense as it was supposed to. Why?" Bee pressed, feeling the confusion creep up on his spine. "To make me feel worse? Torture me, taint me...?" 

"You look into things far too deeply," he rumbled in return. "Or I could leave you here and just go kill Lennox's family. The choice is yours." 

Only a soft click replied to that, and the sound of smooth metal sliding against smooth metal, as the second lock loosened and the armor revealed the Spark chamber itself. Through the thin slits on and around it, one could see the pure white light seeping out; sacred and tempting at the same time. 

Triumph; it was a feeling that as of the past few weeks Barricade had felt very little of. No matter how many humans he killed, he never felt as though he were winning anything, but now... At least he was getting what he wanted. The Decepticon had gained a little purchase in the ever sickening world that was his mind, for here, he was in control. Barricade couldn't control every aspect about himself any longer, and so he resorted to this.

Quadoptics drew towards the white light that was so personal that it was almost holy. Even to him and to his kind the spark was not something that was touched or messed with without permission; to do so meant that one truly hated the other. Without a second thought, the Saleen Mustang's own contorted chestplates slid back, exposing his spark and pressing it closer. "Now who's a whore?" 

"You," Bee replied immediately, and turned his head away. "Just... give me a few seconds. I... need to concentrate." The last lock was not designed to open when not in the heat of mating. It indeed took a little effort to release the final seal. Though... Undeniably, the heat of the other's core pressed so close, the comforting warmth helped. 

Barricade on the subject of patience was a paradox; when on missions he could sit in the precise same spot for days on end and never move and not be bothered in the slightest, but then there were days in which five seconds to send information from one level of the _Nemesis_ to another was five seconds too slagging long. Here, Barricade was patient and waited for the yellow mech to open up the last lock. He remembered being young, and knew that bullying the Autobot at this point would only make his goal skitter farther away. Finally that last lock slid away and there was nothing but air between each core. It had been forever since Barricade had his spark so close to another one. "Perhaps." 

Bee didn't ask about that 'perhaps'. He shuddered and his ventilation gasped lightly, as his spark eagerly arched up against the other. This was... actually very different from those other few times he bonded. There was frantic groping, fingers searching for sensitive spots, armors grinding against each other. Now, there was nothing, just silence. Even thought he was chained, still faintly aching, and facing an enemy... it was so... peaceful. And his emotions were warring again, making him to crave the other spark's pure light. 

It was just a tiny touch, but it was there, that slight burst of feeling that rushed through his circuits and left them tingling in its wake. Barricade supposed the yellow Autobot was right; being a Decepticon, and one that was only sixteen feet tall and change in a world with others that more than likely towered at twenty-five feet plus, that made it difficult to not be a whore. The Saleen was accustomed to being exposed, so it didn't bother him, especially now when he had power over the situation. Most times he didn't. Blackout, on more than one occasion, forced him along into bonding like this but it was never peaceful; it was forceful, it was violent, and it, more often than not, hurt like a bitch. But there was also pleasure there, which kept Blackout coming back for more. Barricade's own spark returned the gesture, coming forward to eagerly touch the other's. 

The scout's head dipped forward, and a tiny little moan left his vocalizer. The heat... it spread out, first warming up his chest, then his entire frame. His core throbbed, whining for more, more contact, more light, more of something similar... As if the sparks, once part of the Allspark still belonged to a bigger whole, and they would have wanted to unite. They searched for each other, and who was the yellow mech to say no to their wordless plea...? 

Barricade felt the other arch towards him harder, and obliged by gripping the others back with his claws and forcing him closer, encouraged by the moan and the dropping of the other's head. Their chests were mashed together so tightly that barely air could even get through. Razor sharp teeth ran over mangled neck-wiring that he had previously bitten, now instead only nibbling on them in a slightly distracted manner. 

Bee mewled and his back arched; his head rolled to the side, to expose his neck to the predator. What the slag was he doing...? This shouldn't have been so good, so sweet, so comforting... but it was. His spark tried to curl up against Barricade's, sobbing freely with the loss, throbbing with guilt, begging for consolation. He couldn't mind the sharp dental spikes anymore, couldn't mind the yellow paint being scraped off by black metal, couldn't mind who they were - his mind, the processors, the logic circuits were pushed back, and his very soul came forth. And the soul only care for the pain it wanted to be eased. 

Barricade's spark was heavy with its own pains and powers, its own battle scars and emotional wounds that he'd received and buried over the years. Having such a long life was both a blessing and a curse, for it allowed plenty of time for both pains and pleasures. Barricade's spark did not move away but offered no resistance to the other as it curled against it, for him, too, it didn't matter who they are. They all came from the same place and their souls relished this feeling of familiarity. The black one's spark stroked the other, hushing it, telling its own tales of pain that reflected a haunting similarity to the loss Bee felt, ones that could be lived past. 

And it all progressed from there. Bodies ground against each other, one like the midday sun, one like the midnight. Moans broke forth from the vocalizers, shivers ran through them, further chasing them toward an overload. Their Sparks felt to merge into one, both offering pain and joy alike, and indeed, when shared, grief and sorrow halved, while the joy doubled. The internal systems hummed loudly, ventilations struggled to cool the overheated cores, processors shut off one by one... And suddenly, Bumblebee's graceful frame tensed up, his head rolled back and he screamed as he lost control over his systems. The powerful surge washed over him, purging the neuro-grid and frying out nearly everything temporally. His spark clung to Barricade's in despair, writhing in the exquisite agony. 

It was hard to imagine that this sort of thing felt so nice. It was supposed to be universal but somehow, Blackout twisted even something as sacred as this into a violent weapon bent for pain rather than pleasure. Barricade willingly contributed to the vocal expressions of pleasure, hands roving where they may for his mind was no longer in power. The yellow body standing nearly supine as an erect form could stiffened in his hold and Bumblebee screamed, so delicious -- tipping the black Saleen form into his own throatripping explosion of sensation. 

The moment of perfect unison approached, occurred - it felt as if it lasted for long vorns - and passed slowly, as the sea pulls back after the tide. A few stray sizzles ran over Bee's frame, then he promptly collapsed - as much as the chains let him. All his energy was finally drained, even his locks were slow to reseal themselves, hiding his pulsating, satisfied spark from view. Only his air intakes hummed, restoring inner temperature, and the cooling metal creaked occasionally. 

The Ford stumbled back several steps, leaning against the crate that was still wet. His locks returned to place faster, more experienced in what he was doing but that wasn't exactly by choice, of course. The old crate creaked with the weight being pressed on it but it held, and for now, the black mech said nothing. 

The yellow scout didn't even click. He was properly knocked out, optics dark, body limp, arms stretched out, with all the sensitive joints exposed. He was perfectly defenseless at the moment. So fragile and vulnerable... 

Barricade studied the mech that he'd spent all night tormenting. The same mech he'd just bonded with; whose pain and pleasures he'd shared and who had thusly also experienced his own. He deliberated and pondered and wondered if he wanted to indeed go through with his word… there were pro's and con's to both. Keeping Bumblebee here would not surprise the yellow mech, but letting him go...

When Bumblebee awoke, he was supine on his back on the floor, free of restraints, the only light coming from a dingy, dusty old window to his left. 

He winced a little, registering the still lingering traces of pain in his arms, then tried to look around. However, it was dark, and his reflectors, his more advanced sensors were still offline - not enough energy. For a few moments, Bee felt puzzled - what happened...? -but then, everything came back in a rush. His first thought was, that Barricade is still here, and he should run for it. The scout struggled up, scurrying backwards until his back hit the wall. Then, the why matched up - the macabre death of the humans, the pain he felt, the grief, the guilt, they all flared up... then fell back, like disturbed water into the pond, creating rings on the surface, as the final part clicked into place -- he had bonded with Barricade. And no matter how his mind protested, Bumblebee knew, that it was something beautiful. He curled up, drawing his knees to his chest and embracing them. He learned much from that bond. 

He'd learned that, while Barricade had indeed attacked and killed the younglings on Cybertron as per the rumors, he'd been ordered to do it by Starscream and hadn't wanted to. It had been a useless scare tactic and show of brutality -- as far as Barricade felt it was a waste of time and his energy. The other stories were also, for the most part, fabricated...except the ones he told of killing the one mate of his after budding off a spawnling spark. That was true. But he'd regretted it later and still, to this day, was not sure why he'd done it.

The room was dark and dusty, and Barricade only watched his captive quietly from his perched atop the rafter. Bumblebee had moved directly beneath him when he'd moved to the wall. 

Bee stared up, into the red optics. His own blue ones were filled with confusion - and Barricade had a vague idea, why. The Decepticon got a good look at the little scout's memories - how the war swept away everything he held dear, how frightened he was at first, and what a relief Prime's guidance provided. He saw the real courage in the Autobot, shining brightly, and how his cheerful personality was battling with all the horrors he had seen. Bee was stubbornly guarding his innocence, he refused to become bitter and burned-out. But Samuel Witwicky's death was the most painful loss from all. There were many memories of peaceful hours, touches and whispered words, though the transformer and the human never even considered each other to be lovers. But there was a deep bond between then, suddenly and violently severed. Bee's pain was fresh and sharp.

And yet, as he regarded the hated enemy staring back, he couldn't help but feel more pity for him, than anger.

"What have you done to me..." Bee whispered, and curled up even more. 

"I made you see."

The answer itself was cryptic, and yet, there was some sense to it. Now Bee understood that there was no right or wrong in this war, only pain beheld by both sides -- both the day and the night had been brainwashed by their sides. There was no mistaking the fact that up until Barricade's recent descent into psychosis that he would uphold the Decepticon cause unerringly, but even he did not know why. If they succeeded, perhaps he expected Megatron to go through with what he promised in the beginning, maybe, but now...now it was all gone. The Saleen S281 was stranded on earth -- hell, he wouldn't even be getting paid for his millions of years of hard fucking work and service. 

"You saw, too, didn't you?" the scout didn't make any attempts to get up. "You know." He shook his head. "We shouldn't have done this. Why wasn't your spark black...? It would be so much easier now..." 

"Yes. I saw." Barricade shifted from his perch, chrome talons anchoring him to the spot with a powerful hydraulic grip. "And sparks are never black no matter more much hatred and pain they harbor." 

"You know what I mean!" Bee shrieked. "Why can't I honestly hate you now?! You murdered my friend in cold blood and I feel for you! This shouldn't have happened!" His intakes were choking, and he started to feel dizzy. Lack of energon. 

"Mm," Barricade replied with the sound almost flippantly, releasing his grip in order to stand straight up. The thick beam of sixty year old metal was rusted through in certain spots, making it a dangerous perch but it had held under Bumblebee's lighter weight. The Ford Mustang set one foot in front of the other and casually walked away from his former captive. "And yet," he said. "I doubt you'd say no if presented with the opportunity..." The Decepticon turned on his heel, facing the yellow with a smirk. "...To do it again." 

At that, the little mech rose and gazed up at his tormentor, his expression a lot more solemn. "Neither would you." 

A dark chuckle echoed around the cold, bare walls. "No. I wouldn't." 

"What will you do now?" Bee demanded. "Carry on with the plan?" 

"Well now that depends." The modified police interceptor stepped over to another rafter, only to bounce back to where he was due to the dangerous crack that resulted from the weaker beam. "On whether or not you stop me." 

"You know that if I get out of here, I will stop you." 

Barricade lowered himself and leapt, landing with a resounding thud on the concrete feet away from the Autobot. "I think you have less of a chance at stopping me out there than you do right here and now." He smirked. "But you won't touch me." 

It was Bumblebee's turn to smile. "Neither would you." 

"That's right. So here we are, stalemate, a draw; with the Lennox family at stake, or my life." Barricade tilted his crested helm to the side, quirking one set of optics. "Problem is...death is not high on my list of concerns. Nothing is. So you know that I will go through Ironhide if I have to get to them. Death would be a mercy, at this point. And I don't fear your little friends, Bumblebrat, for _you_ are the only one fast enough and crafty enough to catch me. You asked about my plan, and yes, I will go along with it. I will kill, and kill, and tear as many families apart as I can before my demise comes." 

"And so your revenge is complete." The scout shivered. "I'll have to kill you..." He didn't finish. They both knew, what that will result in - even more pain, grief and guilt. Eventually - possibly - the very same madness, which consumed the interrogator. It was a cruel fate to look forward to. So in the end, the Decepticon had won. 

Barricade's reply was quick and...eerily cheerful. "Yep! That's the basic plan. So, with that in mind," trailed off the Saleen as he turned around, stalking towards the entrance. " _Ta ta_." Without another word, the police cruiser shifted forms and tore out and down the road.


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks went by. People started dying. No evidence, no fingerprints, just various bloody murders ranging in scene from in-home invasion to hit and run victims on the street. The home invasion ones were the weirdest...they were always on the first floor, never on the second, and the houses typically suffered extreme amounts of damage, sometimes even so far as them being burned to the ground. The victims ranged in age and sex, seeming completely random, but Bumblebee knew.

He knew and his optics burned with dark flames every time the news came up. Even Prime felt uneasy when he looked at the scout. Ratchet was genuinely worried - he knew Bee would not be able to mourn properly until Barricade was running amok out there. And with the anger and sadness held inside, the yellow mech was pushed closer to the darkness with every passing day. Finally, he just left without as much as a warning, and the medic couldn't help but pray inwardly, for his success. For his failure would mean his demise. 

Barricade kept to himself for the most part and did not make it a habit to peruse the streets where people may notice a cop car as eye-catching as him drifting up and down the roads. Most times, he sat out in an abandoned lot in broad daylight, sitting between a few old, rusty cars that were for sale beside the road. Today was no different.

However, Bee had everything set on his sensors, following the blood trail like a good dog. Eventually, he picked up the faint signals from the Saleen, and began his pursuit, locating his nemesis next to the junkyard. How fitting. At least, they won't have to bother with the burial.

Bee's spark was throbbing with vengefulness, he was determined to rip Barricade's inside out with his own bare hands, and personally melt his spark chamber into a glowing pile of slag... But, and he couldn't deny that, no matter how he fought, he also wanted to see the black mech. Feel his spark pulsing, hear his rumbling voice.... let his claws trace his bright-colored armor.

This only made him more furious.

Barricade caught sight of his pursuer on his radar only a few miles out, watching the Chevrolet's erratic driving patterns and increasingly reckless speed with interest. _Finally he is coming for me_ , thought the sick Saleen with a twisted grin all to himself. _I was wondering how many more fleshies I was going to have to kill._ He maintained personal control and merely sat quietly, doubting Bumblebee would just transform in broad daylight and attack him… though the Mustang coupe was prepared to engage if he was wrong.

The Camaro soon inched into the range of his visual sensors, trembling slightly, engine purring. Bee pulled closer, barely able to control himself, until his front bumper touched Barricade's.

"I thought, you had a revenge planned out on somebody specific..." the scout growled. "Your chassis will rust from all that blood, you know."

The police interceptor did not back off, or so much as move as Bumblebee's bumper touched his own sun-warmed black prow. "That's why I visit the carwashes afterwards if I hit someone that hard as to make them bleed." He chuckled deeply. "The one woman, her head hit my windshield and her skull split. I had brain matter all over the glass, but luckily it rained that night."

"You are sick and disgusting, but I'm sure you already know that," Bee spat, and pushed lightly at the other car, the sunlight glinting off his receptors. "And you know that you have to pay for it. You'll pay for everything, every life you took, every drop of blood you spilt. I'm going to murder you in cold blood. I'm able to do that, and you know it. I've been taught by the best."

"Capable, oh very much so," agreed Barricade calmly, his superior mass and weight holding him in place against the light push. "But you won't." No other explanation was given aside from that.

"Oh, I will. Mark my words, Decepricrap, I will." There was a moment of silence. The revving of the engine was a bit louder, more erratic.

"Eventually."

The deep chuckle that extricated itself from the Ford's internals was so deep that it rattled his metal. "If you had it in mind to kill me on this day you would have done so. What is it, then, that you are here for?"

A shiver ran through the Camaro and the sleek yellow form backed away slowly. "Care to find out...?" He teased, and suddenly his solar receptor/emitters flared to life, flashing a powerful enough light blast at the Saleen, that the sensors were blinded for a moment. Bee chuckled with glee and scurried further back to evade immediate retribution.

"Oops, how careless of me...!"

Barricade was unprepared for the stunt Bumblebee pulled, too perplexed and silently amused at the little Autobot's response. The flash of light screwed up his visuals and the police interceptor scooted back several feet in surprise, light bar blinking and sirens 'whoop-whooping' momentarily. That son of a smelteating... The v8 engine ignited with a vengeance and 550 horses roared, sending the Decepticon forward towards the Camaro.

Bee still laughed, and making full use of his remarkable speed and maneuverability, he sped off, zigzagging between old cars, metal and concrete structures, gates, ditches and bumps, all the while whirring and clicking triumphantly, luring the black mech after him, out of the human-inhabited area. Sure he couldn't transform in the middle of the town... but he didn't plan on staying there.

The scout knew a closed area just outside the settlement, one truly abandoned, old, crumbling facility, with plenty of room for brawling and using each other for target practice. He headed straight there.

Having been a hunter for years, Barricade knew that this little yellow bastard was leading him somewhere. He kept his radar on full in search of any other questionable signatures and followed, darting around obstacles that Bee took him around. The Autobot was not here to play war games, oh no, this game he was engaging in was far more personal. And he was being oh so coy about it. Decepticons, when they wanted pleasure, took it or just said it outright -- there wasn't room for coy little games in his world.

Bumblebee tore through a huge building's gate and transformed, turning around as he did so, sliding further on the ground by the momentum, stirring up quite a lot of dust. He steadied his feet and pointed his cannon forward. In daylight, he was much better off concerning energy, and the solar gun could pack quite a punch if fully charged.

Sirens screaming, the Ford Mustang tore after his prey, growling to himself. He should have killed the little runt when he damn well had the chance. The building loomed into view but the Saleen's speed didn't abate.

The cannon buzzed up on Bee's arm, heating up; the scout could feel that against his armor. The energy began to build, orange glow emitting from the dark barrel. Bee aimed, carefully, with his whole battle processor. This shot will be crucial.

Suddenly he stopped. Barricade locked all four brakes and slid to a halt, throwing up a billowing cloud of limerock dust that shrouded him from view. When that dust began to clear, it became apparent that he was gone.

What the slag?! Bumblebee resisted the urge to turn around sharply, expecting the Decepticon to be just there. Instead, he crouched low and listened, straining his audio-sensors and optics, not missing the top part of the building, either - Barricade seemed to develop a taste for 'mountain air'.

If Bumblebee listened hard enough, he heard faint footsteps. They rang with a tiny metallic cling, as if by a being his size, perhaps heavier, muffling his steps as well as a mech with no rubber padding on his feet could. Barricade growled softly to himself, hands steadying on a piece of concrete, staring at Bee from a short distance to the Camaro's left.

The scout gave a soft click and a quick nod, re-calculating angle and distance then with remarkable speed and grace, he sharply turned toward the black mech, and fired. The shot was indeed very carefully aimed - to hurt but not kill. Oh, no, Bee had other plans. He just hoped, the new coordinates won't cause more damage than he intended to.

The shot came out of nowhere -- Bumblebee was fast and the Saleen S281 had no intentions of denying that, now, or ever in the future. The shot hit him in the abdomen and sent him back, smoldering, to the ground. Cursing inwardly, he monitored damage reports as they scrolled across his line of sight and struggled to get back on his feet.

This, with a yellow bundle of delighted hatred on top of him proved a little more difficult than usually. Bee pressed the cannon against the Decepticon's chest and radiated as much malice, as one is able without a proper mouth.

"Any observations, Barricade? It hurts, doesn't it? I know my weapon well... the particles scrape your armor raw."

"No observations that would not prove redundant," the Decepticon grunted, staring up at the daring blue eyes alight with hatred. But, he made no move to rectify his situation -- if death would take him now, then so be it.

"You took everything from me, Decepticrap," Bee went on, jabbing the cannon into the police cruiser's side. "You murdered my friends, and a lot of humans, you made me fail, you tortured me, and...." he shivered and leaned closer. "I still want you. It's burning, it's eating my spark alive. I hate you with every atom of my body, every wire and circuit is screaming for revenge... But I still want you."

Barricade winced noticeably, optics flickering, but he retaliated not, only listening with a stoic expression across his emotionless facade. But at the last admissions, he smirked. "Hatred and passion; the worst and yet most delicious combination. Blackout taught me how to elicit such things and now I understand his point of view."

"To the PIT with your fragging comrades!" Bee raged, pushing his weapon against the abused form forcefully. "You're going to bond with me, here and now!" Somewhere deep inside, he knew that he is behaving a very irrational way, but the rest of him didn't give a damn. Eventually, madness awaited him anyway - why delay the arrival into the welcoming darkness.

Ah, sweet, sweet rage. The pain elicited was but an afterthought compared to agonies previously endured. "And if I...refuse?" the police cruiser goaded softly, voice low and rasping in a dangerous dare. "My spark is not yours to toy with at your whim, Bumblebrat."

"Sure it is," the scout cooed with venomous sweetness. "Just as mine is yours, and we can't do anything about it. The bond was formed - now we have to suffer the consequences. And if you piss me off badly enough, I'll just pull the trigger accidentally. After that, nothing will matter. It could happen, that your final termination will relieve me from this bond."

"Oh, but you don't want to. The bond was formed and through it, you can't hide yourself anymore. You won't shoot me," a slight pause, and then a toothy, deadly grin. "Not fatally. You don't want to lose what your body and spark so desperately desire."

"Maybe not yet," Bee agreed, now quiet and calm. "But the day will come, when I'll snap. And you can't hide, either." He pushed closer, pressing his chest against the black armor. Barricade could see the repaired wires on the neck, and the few remaining scratches Bee didn't bother to tend to.

The other's spark was so close to his, and without the Decepticon's permission his own rippled in desire to be nearer. Smoldering metal and wires complained against the weight being pressed on them, but still he refused to make a verbal response to it. The resonance inside his chest seemed to whine in discontent at the barrier of armor between them. "I would never hide."

"You just did," Be chuckled, and ground his chest harder into the other's. "You're lucky I could properly recalculate my shot." His free hand's agile fingers began to trace the intact side, stroking over bundles of wires, worming themselves into tiny crevices. Last time, the scout didn't have the opportunity to touch, and now, he relished in it. The Mustang's armor felt so _dark_ under his touch.

Pain he didn't vocalize, but pleasure... Barricade bit back a groan and growled instead, hands firmly at his side. "Weak minded little whelp," he rasped, strained as he struggled not to react. But even then his spark only further demanded that he relinquish the armor covering it in order to be nearer to the other.

Bee whirred softly and his fingers dove deeper under the plating. On his other arm, the cannon buzzed up, warming the metal and the air around it. The scout began to rub the weapon against the Saleen's body, the shoulders, the chest's side... He pulled back just a little bit, and opened the first lock, letting the yellow armor slide to the side.

Being molested by a warm cannon. Barricade shivered without his mental consent, reveling in the dangerous pleasure he was being subjected to. A simple pull of that trigger would be catastrophic at this range -- it would still take two shots to kill him, though. But the thought of being rubbed down by a hot and humming weapon... it blew his mind.

"Aah. Somebody likes to live dangerous." Bee all but purred, and brought the cannon's tip against the very middle of Barricade's chest. "Open up," he said softly, gently nudging the metal. "If you behave, I'll be extra nice with my lovely little tool."

That wrought a wry cackle from the Saleen's gravelly voicebox. "As if I will even consider welcoming death in such a way."

"Getting shot into the stomach in the middle of sparkbonding?" Bee didn't falter. "Open up, or I'll rip it off. Last time you had no problems showing your core off... What changed?" The cannon's tip brushed against the neck-wires. "I want this, and you want it, too, and we both hate it, so let's be quick. I doubt you enjoy your own pain, 'Cade."

The nickname made all the difference. Nicknames were a sign of endearment and sometimes affection -- he never used anything other than caustic insults or Bumblebee's real name. A twisted grin managed to creak its way across his faceplating. "You lie to yourself and you lie to me." Cryptic as it was, the black and white left it at that, loosening his locks and letting them fall away one by one until there was nothing left but an open casing and a throbbing hot core.

Bee's ventilations hitched as he stared into the mesmerizing light. Then, he aimed his weapon at it. "It would be easy if I could do it..."

The spark shrank away from the cannon and shivered, mewling in its own right but Barricade himself said nothing. He merely laid his head back and waited. For life. For death. For pain or pleasure all he could do at this point was wait for whatever was about to come to him. "...But you can't."

"No, I can't." With a flash, Bee's core revealed itself as well and the scout positioned himself above his enemy's body, sinking down, closing the distance between their sparks. After an agonizingly long minute, the cores touched, humming with ecstasy, but Bee pulled away again. Not too far, though; and he began to rock forward, forth and back, forth and back...

The Decepticon hissed in anticipation and arched up to meet the yellow foe, sinking back down in throbbing satisfaction as Bee's core touched his. But then the sonuvabitch pulled back and -- oh. The snarl that had begun to rattle in Barricade's internals dissolved into a slightly confused but extremely pleased warbling purr as the Autobot rocked overtop of him, sliding their bodies together in a fashion that he'd not thought of before. Chrome claws, so deliciously curved, lifted to find and attack Bumblebee's door-wings with sensation.

A sharp whirr, and a series of clicks answered him - a bit like Frenzy's ecstatic noises, when he tore into a computer system. With one hand, the scout braced himself against the ground, while his other, with the mounted cannon began to nudge the black mech's side again. The weapon whined, the unreleased energy throbbing inside it.

Barricade growled, a low, dangerous sound despite his pleasure. The hands up above Bee's back latched onto the hinges of the door-wings and squeezed. "Resist in the noisemaking or parts start coming off." Nobody had a right to remind him of Frenzy. Nobody.

Bee hesitated a bit, but the realization came hard with his next movement. They were bonding, images and memories flowing back and forth, and amidst the pleasure-filled chaos, an image surfaced - Barricade's silvery partner. Emotions were attached to the memory, and the yellow mech understood. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and tuned his vocalizer to less mechanical sounds. Resuming his previous rhythm, he moaned deeply - another thing he picked up from the humans he loved so much.

He and Frenzy had worked for years together -- even before the Earth team was assembled. Their relationship was tight knit and willing even if it hadn't been at first, but with work the pair had gotten to the point of knowing what the other wanted without the other having to say it. Barricade sighed and relaxed again, letting the tips of his fingers rove freely.

The scout shuddered from the touch - his doors were sensitive. He continued with the wonderful torture for a while longer, until their sparks arched up and literally locked, tendrils of light lashing forth from both and forming a bridge between the cores. Bumblebee threw his head back and let out a sharp little cry from pleasure - then, he pressed close, yellow paintjob scraping against black. 

His cannon arm latched around Barricade's neck, the weapon still radiating heat against the back of the black head, and Bee straddled his enemy's strong thighs, to steady himself.

"'Cade... 'Cade..." he whirred, voice laced with static, as the excess energy began to overload the systems before the final surge. 

There was a certain ecstatic malevolence in the way Barricade arched up beneath the Autobot, grinding flecks of black and yellow from their chassis to fall in speckles across his otherwise coal hide. Energies coalesced, translucent glowing diffusion a wishwash of light and pure being in the center, hidden between two chests so tightly locked together, two creatures so very close to sensory overload. The bad of their lives so brilliantly spread across the expanse of two sparks and thus cut in half as their good times and pleasant memories served to increase the euphoria twofold. The Saleen arched again, trapped willingly beneath his psuedo-captor, pain mingling in with soul-devouring pleasure until his peak was reached and his systems status went through the roof. 

Bumblebee's scream break forth from his very being again, the sound metallic, sharp, but loaded with pleasure. He lost control over his servos, and shook helplessly in the black arms, as the powerful wave of the surge washed through him, melting everything inside. 

In the few seconds following the peak, he felt that it was all too perfect; he wished that they could go on like this, sharing everything, memories, thoughts, good and bad alike, in the perfect unison of souls. But all too soon the logic circuits flared to life, reminding the yellow scout that they were bitter enemies, both with unforgivable sins committed against each other. Hate and bitterness reared their heads again, but they couldn't completely overcome the aftershock - the systems weren't rebooting that fast. Bee slumped against the dark frame, not wanting to think. For a few seconds... he just wanted to be at peace, being hold securely. 

Fans whirred to life, slowly beginning to cool an overheated ebony body. Wafts of the heat distorted the air as the two lay, as if engines on a hot highway, recovering at their leisure from their endeavors. Barricade's hands remained still on the yellow Camaro's back, his spark wishwashing within the confines of his spark chamber, pleased and sated. 

After a minute, Bee pulled away with a soft sigh. He backed away a bit, looking down at the black mech and with a careful fingertip, he traced some light patterns on the other's chest, then the dark faceplates. He said nothing, just touched, almost lovingly. 

The S281 Mustang considered biting the fingers that touched his face; strong impulses to do so wracked his frame but he resisted. This was not borne of any hatred for the yellow mech, it was from millennium of others sticking their fingers in his face and thusly losing them in the process. 

The yellow head tilted slightly to the side, as he felt the light tremors of tension, and he briefly ran a fingertip over the black chevron on the interrogator's forehead. "You're attractive." 

That comment came from about left field and then some. Barricade couldn't resist the head tilt that resulted from Bumblebee's sudden and rather unexpected admission; he was attractive? By Decepticon standards, sure, he was decent looking what with the spikes and sharp edges and claws and head-crest, but to an Autobot? They seemed to prefer curves and more civilized features. A verbal response was unnecessary, as the query was written all over the Mustang's face. 

"Strong, dark and stable, solemn... Black and white contrasts on you nicely." Bee's hand came to rest on the wide chest, fingering the rapidly cooling armor. "You're like a dark version of our Prowl." He shrugged. "Maybe it's just the bond, or the madness talking, but... I think you look good indeed." His fingertips traced the edge of the wound he caused. 

A wince was his reward, as well as a deep growl that came with it. "Prowl is nothing compared to me," the Decepticon snarled in mild irritation. "He upholds justice while I unravel it." 

Oddly enough, there was a detectable smile in the blue optics. "Same tools of the trade. Same passion, dedication, same high intellect and wit. You even have chevrons, both. Aren't you proud that you can even catch an Autobot's optics?" 

Such odd behavior. Fifteen minutes ago Bee had shot him and hated him with such a delicious passion, now he was being coy. It confused Barricade more than he cared to admit. "Yes and no." 

"Supposed so much." Bee backed off from Barricade, standing, stretching. "You know..." He stopped for a few seconds, thoughtfully staring at the concrete floor, "I could have loved you, before. We could have been real mates." 

The Saleen grunted and rolled to his side, standing swiftly though not without difficulty. The armor of his chest reformed and locked with finality. "You may have been capable of loving me, but Decepticons do not look for such follies. The thought had not even crossed my mind, of having a mate at all much less it being you." 

"You did have a mate," the scout pointed out calmly, examining his weapon for any sort of damage.

"Did, being the key word." Barricade snorted. "You saw how well that worked out." 

"I saw your regret, too." 

It was the closest thing to post-partum psychosis as any Transformer could get at the time. "So you did." 

Bee didn't answer. It would have been redundant. He shook himself, probing his slender limbs. 

"It makes me sad that I don't have the time to ease your pain," he said finally. What a curious feeling. With each passing day, he found himself caring more for the Mustang... And at the same time, despising him all the more. 

Barricade snorted. "He's dead. Been dead for eons. You think I'm still bothered by it? It's done."

The black and white examined the wound in his stomach, knowing no attack was to come to him at this time. Bee was too engrossed in small talk about his past psychotic episodes and looking himself over to bother. Under his breath, Barricade muttered in a slightly melodic fashion, lyrics he had heard and remembered on some radio station: 

" _You're sick of feeling numb;  
You're not the only one;  
I'll take;  
You by the hand;  
And I'll show you a world that you can understand;  
This life;  
Is filled with hurt;  
When happiness doesn't work;  
Trust me and take my hand;  
When the lights go out you will understand._" 

The scout chirped quietly, amused. He held out his cannon, stroking it in an almost sensual manner. "Right. The lights will go out, and we'll be at peace. If there is peace beyond existence." 

Barricade smirked. 

" _Anger and agony;  
Are better than misery;  
When the lights go out..._

Then what, Bumblebitch? Hm? Then what happens?" 

The blue optics glowed softly. "We'll die."

He transformed and revved his engine. "See you later... And if you'd rather live in pain... disappear from my sight." 

Barricade tilted his head slightly, but only watched as the yellow Autobot prepared to leave. "You mean to kill me either way. Or so you think."


	4. Chapter 4

It had rained for three days in a row, and showed no sign of stopping. The roads were wet, the air was damp; the humans tried to do whatever business they had outside the quickest way possible, then returned to their safe and warm and dry homes, to their beloved ones. For once, Bee envied them. His most beloved companion was dead since a few weeks now; he was there at the burial. There was only one urn with ashes, the incinerated remains of Sam's parents, though the boy's name stood there, too - The Camaro agreed that it was the thought, which counted. He took the sobbing Mikaela home, sharing their grief for a while, then they parted - and the scout knew that it was forever.

Since then, and that recent run-in with Barricade, he was guarding again, prowling the city stubbornly, watching out for the humans. When there was no Decepticon threat, he kept an optic on thieves, and sometimes, nastier folk, saving a few purses, cars and even lives from being taken. It was a good enough distraction, it kept his mind occupied, off from dangerous topics, like death and... lust.

Still, he knew that his comrades were not fooled. Optimus was genuinely worried, he tried to talk to Bee, and the Camaro listened patiently, gave the carefully chosen, satisfying answers then threw himself back into the arms of darkness. Ratchet was more direct, he threatened, he begged, but they both knew that there was only one solution to this whole situation - erasing everything from Bee's memory banks. Ratchet knew it would have been too drastic and unethical, and Bee didn't want to give up on the memories, anyway.

So, to not cause trouble and pain for his comrades, by making them endure seeing his misery, Bee drove off and assumed the role of the silent guardian of the city. The days were decent enough because he recharged then, but at nights, when he heard sirens wailing, or caught sight of a black car zooming past, his whole inside twisted. He hated the sleek murderer, who ruined his peaceful, sunlit life, pushed him into the clutches of slow madness, but the same time, he couldn't help longing to see him again. It was eating him alive.

Barricade stayed away. He skirted the suburbs, sometimes patrolling the dimly lit side streets of Tranquility, California. More than once did a confused human gaze out their window at midnight to see a police car rolling by without its headlights on. While he strayed, so far from anything that even looked like home, the Mustang Saleen tried to examine exactly what had thrown him into his spiraling descent into insanity, tried to remain clinically detached as he thought about it, but the more he tried the less and less he was able to discern. Barricade's thought patterns had become erratic; his mind was a kaleidoscope of rapidly shifting images and musings, and he found that even when he was driving he was prone to becoming distracted. The thought, that loss of control, frightened him and only served to increase the sense of panic as the Decepticon scrabbled to remain latched onto his last threads of sanity.

Most nights he was awake, not unlike his yellow counterpart. Barricade would go outside of town to spend the night in solitude, even though he was always alone even in a crowd, but he didn't sleep. Even during the day, recharge escaped him for days, even weeks on end. That certainly did nothing to help his mental state, but the police cruiser could do nothing to help himself, so to pass the time when the moon was high he paced. All night long in the same incessant pattern, at the same monotonous speed, six steps one way and six steps the other. Walk, walk, walk.

Barricade adamantly kept himself away from the city as often as he could, wary of meeting the Autobots...not that he feared Bumblebee, but his comrades. Death didn't scare him, but the Saleen S281 was hardly about to go off and look for it. Still, the constant lack of sleep and separation from other living beings began to take its toll, and after well into two weeks without a good recharge, Barricade went on the hunt. Madness filled his mind with fog, but he lurked the small town streets at three-thirty in the morning, looking for his bright yellow Autobot prey.

He didn't have to look for too long. Bumblebee didn't care to hide his signals - maybe, he did it because he wanted the others to know that he's still online, no worries...or because he had nothing to fear, either. So what if somebody caught unusual readings on whatever device? The scout thought, he'd be even a bit proud then. In reality, though the notion did not crystallize into a conscious thought, he was sort of calling out to others, whether a Decepticon or the government, it did not matter.

The night went well, he scared off another car thief, and that filled him with some satisfaction. Dawn was approaching now, though one couldn't tell it by looking at the sky - it was dark as ever, the pregnant gray clouds weeping, soaking the world into a mess of dull colors and chilly air. Usually, this was the most peaceful time, even the wrong-doers were too tired to launch into action anymore. Bee rolled along the streets with a quietly purring engine, listening to some song on his radio.

His sensors jerked him out of the reverie though, as they picked up a familiar signal - a Cybertronian. And definitely not an Autobot. Bee's first reaction was to launch forward, but he stilled after a moment, and merely modified his route to draw closer to the signal's source. 

Barricade's sensors swept out at moderate levels, taking in everything within a two mile radius. For the better part of an hour, he found nothing, but then there came a familiar blip on his radar screens. He was the only Decepticon left on the planet, thusly, whenever a reading came on his registers he automatically knew it was hostile, but this time, he went towards it. Taking alleys and side streets, the black and white set a course to merge along with the signal, no matter who it was, in only 3.5 earth minutes.

There was a small park at the left and a mall's silent, dark mass on the right, with a huge parking lot stretching out in front of it. The rain-soaked concrete was slippery, even the Camaro had to pay a little attention as he braked, noticing the dark form approaching from the opposite direction. Bee's bright paintjob was a little more visible in the darkness, so he had absolutely no doubt that he had been noticed - not that his signals weren't flaring like a beacon

The weather weighed him down lately, he felt tired, sad, numb. Even from this distance, he could sense the other pulsing with energy, and his spark - oh, when did it become such a treacherous creature...! - stirred, wanting to reach out for its counterpart, and gain new strength from its closeness.

The Saleen drew closer, pulling towards the yellow Autobot. With the recent rains, even with his superior traction control, he'd had several near misses -- not that it helped that he was a reckless driver to begin with. Rain pelted on his ebony form, distorting the reflections on otherwise clean armor, and Barricade drew to a stop, his ram guard pressed against Bee's front bumper.

"This is vaguely familiar," the scout mused aloud, his voice laced with a smile, and carefully moved forward a millimeter or two. "Long time no see, 'Cade."

"You seem so disgustingly pleasant," he rumbled, voice haggard and worn and so very tired.

"What can I do. I'm a generally pleasant mech," Bee replied, and pulled back a little, just to roll forth, and come to a stand next to the black and white Mustang, their sides perfectly aligned, doors touching.

"The weather's pretty awful, isn't it? All damp, all cold, so depressing. What I wouldn't give for a warm place, some hot water, and a good waxing."

Small talk. Barricade was losing his fucking mind and all this crackheaded piece of smelt had to talk about was the weather? "My interest in the weather is minimal at best."

"What interests you, then?"

"You do."

"Oh. Do I, now." Bee rolled away again, turning then nudging one of Barricade's taillights gently. "It was inevitable."

Still the black specter sat, unmoving, keeping his sensors locked on his yellow counterpart. Pride welled up, and with it, anger... Primus, he was so tired. "You are my only option for contact."

There was a pause, and a few soft clicks... And then, the Camaro unfolded itself, to assume his standard form. He did not make any hostile movements, though, merely sank to his knees, and gently ran his fingertips over the Saleen's top.

"You were missing contact..." Not a question, merely a statement. "It's hard for you, I know. Being alone is something one can only tolerate to a level. I'm here now."

The Autobot was being kind to him. Why? The question bounced around inside his processor as the police cruiser scrabbled for an answer, one that eluded him entirely. Primus alive, why couldn't he recharge? Even utterly insane he could think more clearly than this primitive drive that kept him going now. To Bee's last words, he replied naught.

The scout didn't say anything either, just continued to caress the car, the top, the hood, the front grill, the lights. Rain was pouring on him, but he decided not to notice it, even as the cold liquid seeped into his insides, and trickled down his still scratched yellow armor. He didn't let Ratchet take care of it, and did not reply the medic's worried inquiry about the origin of the damage.

His radio was humming quietly, an Earth song, like always.

" _We fight all the time  
You and I... that's alright  
We're the same soul  
I don't need... I don't need to hear you say  
That if we weren't so alike  
You'd like me a whole lot more_"

And for several minutes, almost in befuddlement, Barricade just sat and enjoyed the touches, ignoring the fact that he was being petted like some sort of enslaved beast, because that was not the case. Anger burned hot in his core, not because of the action, but because he was...enjoying it. Barricade growled softly, weakly, in psuedo-defiance of Bumblebee's caresses, and then he transformed. Roaring, the Decepticon knocked the enemy onto his back and straddled his hips, hands on the others shoulders.

Bee shook his head - his helm knocked against the pavement a bit harder than he liked. But he made no attempts to fight back; not now. He knew he was not behaving rationally, that he developed amazingly erratic behavior patterns and awful mood swings, but he couldn't care less. Where Barricade actively searched for the cause of his warped mental state, and felt uneasy about it, Bee merely accepted everything with a shrug.

"You're causing quite a racket. Humans will wake and see us." His hands came to rest on the strong black thighs on each side of his hips.

"We are sitting between a mall and a parking lot at four in the morning." Lightning struck somewhere near by amidst the constant downpour, rattling their metal framework with a booming thunderclap. "The only danger to being seen here is morning commuter traffic." But Barricade knew they should move...he just was not inclined to do so.

"That would be bad enough. We don't blend into the environment too well," Bee mentioned. "Take me somewhere quiet. I'm not in the mood of putting up with anything aside you."

Such a strange kindness from this most hated -- and desired -- enemy. The bond was making them act strangely even as it began to strengthen; their sparks, even now, seemed to whine at the barrier between them. Barricade thought about it, trying to get his mind in order before coming to a conclusion. "There is a warehouse, an old Cox distributing building, five miles outside of town."

"Seen it," the yellow mech nodded. "I'll follow you." Through their bond, he sensed the Saleen's confusion, his struggling, and it had an interesting effect on him, filling him with both warmth and icy coldness. And the strangest thing was, he slowly became used to it.

So they had gone from non-consensual bonding, to forced bonding, and now to a completely consensual agreement for pleasure. How very strange. The Decepticon growled but opted not to think about it -- thinking, for him, had become a pointless and difficult endeavor. Soon enough he wouldn't be able to create logical thought patterns at all. He was becoming the beast he'd always wanted to be...in the worst way possible. Barricade stood up and released the Autobot, transforming and tearing down the road. He was a reckless driver, but managed to get to the warehouse in one piece.

Bumblebee was not far behind, even though he still drove with considerably more caution. A certain eagerness was growing in him - he found that he was looking forward to this. How will it feel? Will it be better than those before? The scout shivered. It was always the same since the first time - the longing and the revulsion mixing, that terrible and wonderful feeling. He couldn't fight with it anymore... he merely endured it, trying to make the best of both - enjoying the tender moments, and gathering the rage for the final encounter, where one of them had to go down.

Barricade bottomed out hard as he entered the lot the warehouse was sitting on. He was angry and desperate all and once and that did nothing to help improve his still confused mind. Inside it was dark, dusty, mostly dry -- the warehouse had only been out of use for a few years. The Saleen stopped and let his engine idle.

The scout followed, and his ventilations heaved a sigh as he was finally sheltered from the downpour. The car shook himself then transformed, stretching a bit and shaking the moisture off. He let his inner heating systems flare up for a while, to evaporate at least some of the water. Clouds of steam rose from the gaps on his armor, the liquid hissing quietly as it boiled.

In turn, the other followed suit but did not bother with the water. Since his arrival on earth, Barricade had positively detested the humidity and liquid everywhere and had bitched, pissed, griped and moaned every time it so much as began to sprinkle. It rarely rained where he was from and he hated it. Now? He couldn't bring himself to care, same as he could not bring himself to reach out and touch that Camaro as he was so keen on doing. Pride stopped him from making the first move.

And Bee knew this. He felt the other's core trembling, clawing at the spark chamber's closing panels, howling for to meet its counterpart - and his was all the same. The slender arms were wrapped around the armored chest, as if in an attempt to keep the rebellious spark inside, and Bee offered a way out - both making it easier for the Saleen, and getting his own small revenge.

"Touch me." A small, quiet plea, nothing too desperate, but needy enough.

The plea was so simple. It made everything easier as Pride let go and grumblingly sat back, allowing chrome talons to reach out then, stretching to touch golden armor. Barricade stepped forward, closing the distance between them as his razor sharp fingertips slid up strong arms, reaching around and back to find Bumblebee's doorwings.

The yellow mech let out a tiny moan, and promptly stepped closer, too, placing both hands on the black chest, letting his head fall forward slightly. He shuddered at the first touch, and his fingers began to wander lower, to the other's waist, sneaking around to stroke the armor over the spine. "'Cade..." the voice was barely audible. Bee's mind was playing tricks on him now... simply pushing the pain back, so only the knowledge remained, that he hated the Mustang, no emotions to further fuel his anger.

Barricade's mind just chose to accept it now that they had started. He'd stayed away for two weeks and hadn't recharged in about as long -- the Saleen Mustang was as halfcracked as anyone in the universe at this point, teetering on the edge of losing that last piece of himself that he so desperately held onto. For now, he held Bumblebee with the same intensity, pulling their bodies together flush.

And Bumblebee relished in the closeness, the eagerness. His hands went up again, to the other's spiked helm and cupped it gently, to pull the Decepticon's head closer, to the neckwires, those sensitive, silvery cables glinting between yellow armor. He wanted to feel those dental spikes worrying over the wires again. It was both pleasurable and scary, a strange appeal. Bee chuckled to himself - he suspected, very few Autobots ever had such 'kinks'. Humans were so different... They were astonishingly creative, when it came to mating. Bee knew that well. Lately, he found an odd curiosity inside himself directed towards organic mating rituals. 

Manipulated; his head was cupped between the hands that not three weeks ago would have torn it clean off without hesitation. Claws tracing patterns along yellow back plating, Barricade obliged, tilting his head to gain better access to the area, and without a second thought, he nibbled every wire he could reach.

The scout moaned unashamed, and his slender form practically melted into the black arms, his hands now encircling Barricade's shoulders. "Yes... Primus." He tilted his head to the side, and pushed his chest a bit closer, to grind armors together.

The Mustang police cruiser purred as he went, dragging sharp oral spikes over sensitive wiring and circuitry -- typical. He was losing his mind but he could still make another mech melt into a metaphorical puddle of goo. Those rendering teeth slid and nibbled where they wished, over wires and cables, brushing over lifting struts exposed, then up to gently gnaw on the Camaro's jawline. Up over the cheek he ventured, until finally he merely nibbled on Bee's mouthpiece.

A strained moan answered him and yet another shudder, silver-yellow fingers digging into crevices, massaging, probing, and - desperately trying to find something to hold onto. With dimming optics, Bee unlocked the first seal, though his armor did not slide apart just yet. His core temperature was steadily building, heating up his whole body. Slowly, all the water was evaporating.

Humans did this. There was something that they liked about it, that they found pleasurable, but as Barricade mouthed and gently bit on Bee's he sort of felt awkward. Having his face so close to the enemy's...A rumbling purr emanated from inside when the first lock on yellow armor clicked open. Without hesitation and with practiced ease, all three of Barricade's locks disengaged and his chest shifted, opening, baring his spark.

Bumblebee gasped. "Couldn't you wait a little more...?" He slipped out of the Saleen's embrace, and took a step back, only to settle down on the hard ground, leaning back on his hands. "Come, 'Cade, and take it. You're a good partner, but you'll have to open my chest yourself."

The Decepticon was startled out of his hold by Bumblebee pulling away. That little shit. But his words hit home sounding like a challenge to his sleep-deprived, sociopathic mind, and he took it in stride. Barricade's chest snapped shut and re-locked as he dropped into a crouch over the Chevrolet's yellow form, roughly forcing the other onto his back on the dusty floor as he hovered over him. "I could force you."

"You could," the scout agreed, "But why take the bother?" His hands curled around the other's neck, soothingly caressing the wires. "You're tired, I feel that. I won't make it too hard, promise... But you can't expect me to just give myself up. Work for it, tease me... and you'll feel better after an overload."

Barricade studied the Autobot below him, optics roving over the lithe form. He would not yet admit it, but his counterpart was attractive in his own right, too. Leaning down, the Saleen Mustang settled atop Bee's frame and let one hand drift along the other's side while his mouth went back at the other's neck.

Those agile fingers responded in kind, starting to roam on the police cruiser's back, kneading the more sensitive areas down along the spine. The yellow mech mewled from pleasure and arched up a bit, his front from chest to groin rubbing against the black frame.

"'Cade... Give me your hand."

Puzzled, the Saleen braced one hand on the ground and lifted up only a few inches, but did as he asked and hovered one hand near Bumblebee's head. "Why?"

"I want to show you something." Catching the offered limb, Bumblebee brought it down to his groin, smoothing the black palm on the lubricant container, and gently forcing a talon behind the silver piece. "I didn't know I had a neuro-center down there..." He murmured. "It was an amusing find." Suddenly, he tensed and squealed sharply. "Yes, there...! Exactly there."

Barricade tilted his head and arched back slightly at the squeal, perplexed. But, even so, he curiously wriggled his claw, raking it against that spot. "And how did you discover this?"

"I-I was... Aa! E-experimenting..." The slender yellow body shuddered, one hand clutching a black wrist, the other grasping a dark shoulder for dear life. "I was just fooling around after watching some Earth movie... I really didn't think my body could be that alike a human's."

As an interrogator, Barricade knew the Transformer body had immense potential for feeling, both pleasure and pain. As such... he'd live a very, very interesting and educational life on the subject. He knew each of his hotspots and all those on several of his comrades on the Nemesis (all of whom were dead), and on more than one occasion overload had been brought without bonding or interfacing at all. The chrome talon slid deeper beneath the silver panel.

The hold on his wrist strengthened, and Bee let out a pitiful whimper. "No... It starts to hurt after a while. The stronger touch damages it. Be more gentle." The large blue optics glowed in the dark, and the scout's voice was trembling... both from pleasure and a bit of fear.

A tiny flare of anger erupted at the words, and Barricade jabbed his finger beneath the plate without real reason or rhyme. Perhaps it was his own version of sharing his pain. After that initial thrust, though, he backed off to more acceptable levels and again stroked the spot indicated.

The pained squeal died off in the air, and the tense yellow frame relaxed. "Ow," Bee commented on a small voice, and his ventilations gave a long sigh. "What did I say...?" He felt the other's anger but couldn't understand it, and he was not in the mood to think about it too much. His spark was humming, relishing in the physical pleasure, and the need to give back the exact same thing rose again.

The Decepticon ravaged Bee's neck without restraint, sharp teeth sliding over sensitive inner workings as his talons continued to work down below the silver plate. "Don't worry about it."

Eventually, the scout just gave up - his nerves were so deliciously stimulated that he soon released the second lock as well. His hands were not resting, either, they roamed on the black frame above him, trying to find the most sensitive spots. "'Cade... Aa, yes, hkk-" the voice broke with a click and a whirr, long and delightful. "Show me... show me where to touch..."

Barricade growled softly, grating his teeth over a metal strut in his companion's heck, only to reach in deeper, searching for more sensitive components. He considered Bumblebee's question amidst this activity, his left hand still south, attacking the Camaro's loins with sensation. That hand, however, was forced to drift away from that area, and with conviction the Saleen Mustang found and held one of the yellow hands. Directing it up and over, he placed the chrome tips of the Autobot's fingers atop thin armor plates on his lower back, but only let them hover there for a fleeting moment before arching his back out and forcing Bumblebee's hand between their bodies. Eerily similar, Barricade brought the yellow Camaro's digits to the crux of his limbs and shuddered.

The blue optics widened, and the slender fingers applied some pressure. "You, too? There...? We're indeed the same... concerning a few things." His other hand did not rest, either, it wandered to the thin plating previously indicated and gently began to rub them. "I'd like to hear you moan..."

And after a moment, another thing registered, too: the Mustang complied to the request. He just gave up his most sensitive spots... and that made Bee's spark give a throb, flooding his body with warmth.

To both pain and pleasure those spots were most receptive, and therefore guarded, but not this day. "A few," the Decepticon grunted out, hissing softly as those fingers moved within his nether region.

It had been years since he'd last been touched like this; since his last lover had thought enough to bother with such niceties as physical pleasure as well as what could be given through actual bonding. But then, Decepticon intimacy was something to be both feared and looked forward to with passion. It was hard, fast, mixed pain and ecstasy in equal levels. This cohorting with the Autobot was foreign, strange, but also... somewhat nice. Barricade managed a strangled chuckled at his lover's words. "You'll have to work harder for that."

"And two of my locks are already open..." Bumblebee commented with a pout in his voice. Not that he minded the challenge - it filled him with a small surge of energy. Deft fingers doubled their efforts, leaving the groin for the time being, to pay more attention to the back and the door-joints. Those were always sensitive, on every 'former who had them. The scout didn't hold back, he let out a relaxed moan, letting his head roll back, and spreading his legs a bit more, to give the chrome talons a better access.

"It takes c-concentration for you to do s-so," Barricade stammered in return, writhing slowly, hands pausing where they were. "Young one. Can open mine in a sparkpulse." _Whore_. The word rang true in a certain sense...and false in others. Autobots and Decepticons lead very different ways of life.

"It's not that it takes much more for me..." Bee would have stuck his tongue out if he had any. "I just require a... proper mood. I'm not as inexperienced as you might think." The silver-yellow fingers probed deeper into the door-joints. "I like how your voice wavers..." He paused, clicking to himself thoughtfully.

Fans whirred to life as if trying to cool a heated engine as the black Mustang shamelessly arched beneath tantalizingly slim fingers, biting back the sounds he wanted to make. No, the Autobot had to work harder if he wanted that out of him… he didn't even moan for Blackout unless he was feeling particularly giving. Black armor clicked and reformed, the first two locks across Barricade's chest sliding apart as he trembled and pressed down on his most hated lover.

Bee arched up in response then lowered himself back, and his hands paused briefly. "Open my armor. Inside, there's a thick fuel cable... touch that." His spark was throbbing wildly, some slight fear weaved into the pattern of joy - inside, one wrong move is enough to lethally damage a transformer. The yellow mech wiggled a bit, pulling his knees up, similar to the femmes in the movies.

Barricade's energy levels fluctuated, causing his optics to flicker slightly in what could have been mistaken as pleasure. He shuddered as anger slowly bloomed, but kept himself in check. "I'll rip it out and watch you bleed to death."

"I think we've been through that - you won't, because you don't want to, and because then, nobody will remain to give you a good overload." Bee huffed. "'Cade, I feel your spark but I can't read your mind. Why are you angry again? Because..." the blue optics widened a bit. "Because you're... enjoying it...?"

"Because you're keeping me from what I want, Autobrat," the Decepticon snapped, tired mind fogging out and leaving very little room for reason, allowing raw emotion the majority of the space. He reached down again and jabbed a talon beneath that plate again, stabbing deeper.

"Aah!" The scout's body tensed up with a violent twitch, and he tried to wiggle away from the pain. "I just... I didn't mean...!" he grabbed the doorwings firmly. "'Cade! Didn't know you're that impatient...!"

The Saleen S281 grunted as his doorwings were handled so roughly. Tit for tat, as they say, but Barricade wasn't thinking quite clearly at the time. "It is not impatience, youngling, I'm tired of getting the run around, from you, and everyone else."

"You need this more than I thought," Bumblebee whispered, his ventilation practically panting. He let go of the doors and brought his hands to his chest, opening the armor easily, both the inner and the outer cover. His spark chamber was visible now, the small gaps leaking white light. The slender fingers fell on the floor then, and Bee turned his head a bit. He looked so vulnerable like that, so innocent. Another soft click sounder in the air, and the final plating retracted, revealing the scout's pulsing core.

"Here, have it."

Bumblebee seemed displeased, or so the Ford Mustangs disorganized mind thought. His chestplates disappeared and folded away, but Barricade kept his spark away from the yellow bot's. "You do not want to."

"Not like you would under other circumstances." Bee's optics flickered off. "I think I watched too many movies."

"What, human pornographies?" Barricade lowered himself, pressing his chest against his Autobot counterpart's with a whuffle of pleasure and relief as their sparks met. "I-interesting pastime…"

The scout moaned loudly at the contact and immediately brought his arms around the black frame, stroking the thin plating on the back. "So w-what? I'm crazy. I can do weird things... Sometimes they're quite amusing." Primus, it felt so good. Feelings and thoughts flew freely and Bee's spark shivered as it caught traces of Barricade's mental state. "You missed so much recharge..."

Rocking a little to bury his chest a little deeper against the other's, Barricade's ventilations hitched in a sigh. He was exhausted and at the breaking point. "What's it to you?"

A pause. "I suppose... part of me doesn't want you to completely loose yourself. The part that doesn't hate you is worried for you. I don't really talk to anybody else, either... And bonding with you is wonderful." He shuddered. "I wish you chose to take it out on me. Things could be different now."

"You're b-bonding with a psychopath," Barricade growled softly, laying his head down on his lovers shoulder, duplicating what he remembered Bee had done last time. The black specter began to rock back and forth, scraping his front against the Chevrolet, pressing his pelvis between the others spread thighs subconsciously. "That is...punishment enough."

"Your death will be that," the scout whispered barely audibly as he slipped his hand down, trying to reach those nerve-endings on the Mustang's groin. "I'm as much a psychopath as you are." He let out a shuddering sigh. "And bonding is... it's great. 'C-cade... why, why...?"

With a shaking growl, Barricade replied, "Why wh-- Ah!" The police interceptor lifted his head and warbled brokenly in pleasure as the Chevrolet's hand crept down and brushed against that sensitive cluster of reactors. "H-h-hhuuhh....w-why what?"

Bee chuckled, a broken little sound between two shudders of pleasure. His spark was singing from joy, arching up, embracing its counterpart, drunk from the pleasure of the unison. "Wh-why do I... have... t-to... love you...?"

"You shouldn't," Barricade growled in return, shuddering. "You can't. I t-took everything from you, you damned idiot!" But even as he uttered such caustic words his spark grappled with Bumblebee's, swimming around it, content and happy forgetting about its mind's insanity in the company of the steady, sane partner it played with. "I _killed_ Sam."

"And I _HATE_ you for it!" Bee screeched loudly, jabbing his finger into the sensitive spot, and yanking at a door at the same time. "But still, still...! My spark aches for yours, I want to save you, heal you! You _ruined_ me!" His spark suddenly reared and pulled back, wrecked by pain and grief, hate, rage and revulsion rippling around it, stifling its radiance, shielding it from the other core.

Pain, rage, hurt, exhaustion -- it all worked against Barricade's mind. Yowling from the attacks, he jerked up on his hands and knees and snarled, hovering his form over the others. "You hate me and love me in the same breath. You wish for my death and yet you would cry for me when it comes. You are as sick as I am."

"You made me that way," Bee hissed, feeling his spark twist with pain. "I can't remember ever denying it. You and I - we're more alike now than ever. And still, you're not able to let go of the Decepticon - and I'm not able to let go of the Autobot inside."

"We will never be the same!" Barricade lunged away, his core still bared. " _Never_!"

"Of course not, Decepti _crap_." The little scout turned to his side and wrapped his arms around himself pitifully. "It all started out so well... I wanted it, your voice was beautiful... you were nibbling on my neck, it felt so nice... And now, I just ache again," he whispered, more to himself than to the other. He slipped a fingertip to his own, still open spark chamber. "Maybe I could just-" He traced the edge and shivered lightly.

"What? Kill yourself?" Barricade scoffed and closed his chest, listening to his spark whine softly. "Don't bother. I'll be dead soon anyway." The Saleen stood up and looked at the entrance to the warehouse, listening to the rain. Without a word, he turned and started for the entrance.

"Overload myself, you idiot. Since we so neatly ruined everything..." Bee carefully let his fingertip touch his own spark and he moaned at the pleasure it caused. Sparks could be physically touched, and achieving an overload was not unheard of, though it was rare, because any filth in the chamber could lead to infections. But, Ratchet didn't reside too far away... So why not?

Barricade paused and glanced over his shoulder. "Have fun with that." Mood fouled, body exhausted and incomplete, the Mustang Saleen dropped into his alt form and drove away.

"I hope you end up in a ditch!" Bee yelled furiously, and promptly plunged his hand into his spark chamber, just to cry out from the painful pleasure. Relishing in the agony, he continued to fondle his core until the final surge crashed down on him. Then, he just laid there, ventilation hitching as if with quiet sobs.

Outside, the rain was melting the world away.


	5. Chapter 5

The rain had finally relented. After days and days of nonstop downpour the clouds finally broke on the waterlogged counties and cities that had come beneath the onslaught. Roads were flooded, ponds and rivers overflowed, some neighborhoods were sloshing through a foot or more of water and the only reason the cities were in better shape was because of the drainage systems. However, in the tail winds of the horrific downpour came a cold front from the north; temperatures dipped down into the forties, colder at night, signaling the beginning of autumn early this year. Barricade once again made himself scarce to all Autobot frequencies.

So scarce, in fact, that Ironhide already expressed a hope, that the Saleen met his demise. Optimus and Ratchet said nothing to that, and Bee just shuddered a little and drove off.

His core still ached whenever he thought back on their last encounter. It stated out so well... But the damn Decepticon just had to utter the name... the taboo. Since then, Bee's system started to act weirder than ever - it began to demand the overload. The scout managed to weasel out one from the medic and another from Prime, but mostly, he resorted to self-service. In a way, it was quite amusing. But he suspected that the howling need will not shut up unless his partner will be Barricade. The sleek Mustang, the hated lover, the beloved enemy.

The yellow mech looked around on the Internet, and found something similar in humans - a mental condition sometimes arising in people who were kidnapped, or held hostage. They sometimes developed feelings for their captors. Bee never heard about it among his kind, and dared to ask Ratchet. And what could the medic do, anyway? Nothing. Bee loved Barricade, and hated him, he knew he won't find rest until the Salee's functional, but couldn't go on for long without him, either. So after a week, when the familiar signal still haven't registered on his sensors, he set out on the search. Part of him was worried that Ironhide was right, and he won't find anything else, but a cold, dark heap of armor.

It was possible. During the brief moments of their last coupling the Autobot had seen thoughts of suicide out of the corner of his metaphorical vision. Barricade was drowning in madness, his mind disassembling, scattering his wits to the wind and leaving him with nothing but his more primal instincts to deal with. Bumblebee felt fear from his most hated lover, that the police interceptor was afraid of losing every single little piece of him that he knew, despite, he was losing.

No sleep. No recharge. No time for systems to shut down and rest and recuperate from their daily toils. Barricade finally broke down outside of town, his engine refusing to even turn over as if the alternator and starter had both fried. So he'd transformed in broad daylight out in the barely populated area, lumbering off of the side of the road and out to the edge of the woods. The roads, they were lime rock and dusty, struck out in the middle of a destitute nowhere that for Barricade blurred into a mediocre wishwash of color, and he sat, and stared at nothing and slowly retreated into himself.

The little scout slowly grew restless. He searched through the city, high and low, and found nothing. He checked the abandoned buildings but they were empty. His spark was trembling, whimpering, twisting from worry - he wanted to find Barricade! Even if he was dead... he had to see him.

So Bee widened the circle and began to check forests and rock formations, any place where a police cruiser could hide. He was so worked up, he didn't even notice the cold, which did nothing good to Cybertronians. On their home planed, global temperature was quite steady, cold tended to slow them down - or in Megatron's case, immobilize them.

He almost gave a squeal as he finally, finally! picked up a faint signal, and headed that way with full speed. "Please Primus, if you can hear me, let it be him, let it be him...!"

Barricade took no heed to the signal approaching on his sensors. His radar was probably faulty since nobody would be coming all the way out here for him… no Frenzy, no Blackout, no Megatron, no Bonecruser or that infernal idiot Devastator. Nobody. Like he had been for the last two days, the Ford sat in silence and stillness, not even twitching.

Brakes screeched as the Camaro swerved to halt, transformed and made a dash toward the trees. "Barricade!" he cried out in despair. "'Cade, answer me, please!" He stopped abruptly as he caught sight of the hunched form, perfectly still. "'Cade..." He cautiously drew closer, sinking to his knees, reaching out with a trembling hand. "'Cade... Are you..." No, he was definitely not alright. Though scout scanners were nowhere near as sophisticated as medical ones, Bee could sense that the other mech was low on energy. Dangerously low.

Blood red quadoptics were brightly lit but even to an outside source, they appeared to see nothing. In fact, it looked, at best, as if Barricade was looking right through him, incomprehensive of his very presence. And so, the Autobot's plea came without a response from his black counterpart. Not a movement, a shift in weight, or even something as simple as a fluctuation in the Saleen's internal functioning… he was as still as death and about as rigid.

"'Cade..." The yellow mech's ventilation hitched and he moved closer, gently caressing the spiked helm. "Dear Primus, how could you let yourself fall so apart...?" Bee eased himself into the other's lap, and embraced the black shoulders. "I need you, fragging Decepticrap, and you know that. Probably I should shoot you, out of mercy, but... you don't deserve it and I can't do it while you can't fight back. Primus damn you... Can't you feel how I need you? My spark is aching..." Yeah, he was rambling. So what.

"You need energy, a good recharge... You have to wake up. You can't be so far away... I can still feel your spark pulsing inside." The scout caressed the black chest, slowly, sensually. "Don't you want me anymore...?"

Weight. Barricade barely registered weight, pressure being placed somewhere on his body as if he were being touched. Curiosity brought his mind slowly forward to see what it was that it had been missing as it sat by and entertained itself with the chaotic rhythm of its own insanity. The colors began to take shape again as the Decepticon eased with all the speed of a tortoise out of his catatonic, coma-like state. His little Autobot companion was there and for the first time, the Saleen was happy to see him, even if it was in a detached, euphoric manner. "..Bee?"

"'C-cade!" Bee's hands were trembling as his fingers roamed over the other's head and shoulders. "It's me, I'm here with you... Please, come back to me..." Oh, how easier it was for the humans...! If he had a mouth, he would be kissing the Saleen senseless by now. "You haven't recharged still, it will kill you, stupid Decepticon...!" But the insult's edge melted in the frantic caresses.

Bright red eyes blinked softly. His sensory array came online and was immediately battered with sensation; his loved enemy's hands stroking and petting here and there, talking to him, actual words. So tired. Barricade tilted his helm, watching Bee, their faces only bare inches apart. "Can't. Systems won't shut down."

"I'll shut you down...!" the scout threatened, but it occurred to him that it wasn't even that much of a bad idea. His core temperature began to rise, sensors mewled at him, pleading for those sweet sensations. He touched his forehead against the other's, and traced a sensitive neck-wire with a careful fingertip.

"Last time, we left something unfinished," he whispered. "If you can open your chest for me, the overload would properly send you offline. No games this time. Just bond with me. I... missed you."

Enemies for millennia. Enemies even now, but why did it feel so different? Bumblebee's hatred was always on the outline of every word he spoke, battled back only by an intense concern for his well-being. It was that care for the Mustang that made all the difference. Letting his ventilations release a sigh-like sound, Barricade settled both taloned hands on either of Bumblebee's hips, and obediently, if not a little eagerly, his spark chamber was bared.

Bee chuckled, pressed his chest closer and released the first two locks, letting the sweet agony of want and need linger. His spark was begging to be released, as if it had been another creature, with a will on its own. The yellow mech could feel its tendrils of light mapping the spark chamber's plates, trying to find a way out. It was pointless to hold it back any longer.

One deft hand slipped to the black back, to rub the thin plating, while the other reached down, searching for the cluster of nerves on the groin and finally, the spark was freed, too, and it arched up to touch its counterpart with a joyous leap.

With a pleading hiss, the black and white's arms suddenly darted up to wrap possessively around the yellow's back, warbling in pleasure at the contact. Seemingly forgetting entirely about their last unfinished encounter, his spark surged up, trilling softly, looking for comfort. Its tendrils of light and energy and soul tangled with Bee's as if to say 'look at me! He has gone mad and I am afraid!'.

The younger spark giggled with delight and opened welcoming light-arms to the other. 'Come closer and join with me. I'll give you my power and I'll soothe your fears.'

Outside, Bee let his head roll back, enjoying the embrace, and shuddering from the spark-touch. "'Cade... My sweetest enemy. I'm here. I'll take care of you." The silver-yellow fingers never rested, eager to touch, to feel the other.

The darker, older spark purred and took the invite, nestling closer to its counterpart, vibrating slowly as it wriggled as close as was possible. Barricade himself turned his teeth towards his at-the-time-lover, nibbling and biting at the yellow Chevrolet's exposed neck. "Stop talking."

"Alright, alright." The scout chuckled and brought his hands up to caress the spiked helm. He offlined his optics and just let go - he let his spark do the work. Yellow frame was grinding against the black one, scraping off paint from both of them - they started to look rather weather-worn by now, but really, who cared...?

Purring, Barricade ground his body against his partner, gaining pleasure in the joining, sharing his madness and the all-encompassing fear that it included. The Saleen S281 was mourning his loss of self, wondering where he'd gone and why he would not come back. Where was his power of thought? His memory? Where had it all gone?

Bumblebee's spark shuddered. What the other projected, was terrible and Bee couldn't find a good answer. Ratchet was the medic, but that was no option, taking Barricade to him. Loosing one's mind, the ability to think, to keep on a straight line of thought was horrifying. He understood while the black and white mech was so scared.

The scout clicked soothingly, trying to move even closer, embrace the other even tighter. 'Take my strength,' his spark suggested. 'Take it, and let your worries fade. Embrace me, and let us join, let us feel the surge. After that, you'll be recharging, your mind will have the time to settle, and maybe you'll feel better.'

The Decepticon ground himself against the other, ventilation systems cycling faster, more paint scraping off of his steadily fading chest. For a split second, he considered trying to get another coat of paint on but mentally shook himself out of the wandering thought, concentrating brokenly on the Autobot's efforts. His core was heating rapidly now especially when Bumblebee touched him...A trilling gasp escaped the older mechanoid, hips arching up beneath his counterpart.

Was that a clue? Bee's agile hand returned to the spot between the legs, gently stroking the hot-spot. Just like in the movies, really. He rubbed his faceplates, his mouthpiece against the spiked helm, offlining his optics. Maybe now, he'll hear the Mustang's moan… He wanted to hear it. He wanted to know that this is causing pleasure to the other. His own companions never held back; even the quiet Ratchet used to make soft noises when the sensation reached its peak. 

Black arms clamped around his brightly colored counterpart tightened their grasp, sensory grid assaulted by both the bonding and the immense truth therein and also by Bumblebee's hands. Powerful thighs trembled at the chrome-capped digits buried down within the crux of Barricade's limbs; so good, so deep, so close. The spark scintillated and whispered to its lover, energy escalating as his sensory grid brimmed to the peak, about to overflow, to overload and release the tension in waves of energy. So close.  
The tremors spoke loud enough; Bee's spark flared up with joy and pride, melting against the other; the yellow frame shuddered with delight. "'Cade... take me with...!" He was never too proud to beg. Somewhat drunk with the feel of power, that his touch inflicted such a reaction, the little scout continued rubbing, grinding, caressing the other - physically stimulating somebody else never felt so satisfactory before.

Brimming; at the peak; overflowing. Barricade felt himself start to reach his surge, and all in combination with such delicious physical stimulation, he could not help it. A soft, deep, warbling moan reached the air beside Bumblebee's audio before the Decepticon's ventilations hitched and he trilled aloud, overloading powerfully, body going rigid with the force.

Perhaps it was the audio-stimulation; Bee's intakes hitched as he felt the pull in his spark, the crackling excess energy releasing in an overwhelming wave. His body went as tense as the Saleen's, slender fingers almost denting the black shoulders as the scout tried to not fall back. His vocalizer emitted a screech, his spine arched and the surge fried out everything inside, leaving processors frozen in a blissful shock.

Frozen in passion, Barricade listened to the delighted squeal as his partner reached his climax in near the same instant, body and mind rigid in pleasure. Panting softly, the Ford Mustang slowly relaxed as his body rebooted swiftly, still reeling. So good.

Eventually, Bee slumped against the black mech's wide chest, perfectly happy and sated, processors still swimming in the daze of the reboot process.

"That was great..." he whispered. "Your voice is beautiful when you're not screaming and growling. You okay, 'Cade? Did it help a little bit at least?" He forced himself to look up, optics glowing softly from the lingering traces of excess charge.

The supercharged muscle car didn't respond. Already, his mind was shutting down as systems began to come online, and then just…didn't. Without much semblance of grace the Decepticon slid back onto his elbows, taking his Autobot counterpart with him, staring dully into those beautifully glowing optics so alight. Exhaustion finally caught up with him enough to force him back down -- Optimus Prime himself could have walked up and Barricade would not have been able to stay awake. Purring in response, the Saleen sank back entirely, optics dimming.

"Apparently, it did," Bee giggled, and he rose to get off his lover-enemy. "Sleep tight. You need it. I'll stay here and guard you... Even though this is a deserted neighborhood, but still..." The soft noises the other made filled him with delight. Sooo, even Decepticons could be pliable and nice in the right situation... 

That boy talked alot. That was the last thing the older Decepticon thought before succumbing entirely to the pull of recharge, the dark lull of sleep. Who knew what awaited him when he woke up, who knew, and who cared. Barricade didn't. So he slept comfortably and without incident, content to wake, or to not.

Chirping softly, the yellow scout stroked the black chevron on the other's forehead gently, then transformed, and assumed a good position to survey the surroundings. He was exhausted, but nicely so, and the screaming rage and pain settled down in the back of his mind - he was simply satisfied, and that was enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Barricade tore down the street, sirens screaming and lights flashing intensely, warding drivers ahead of him to get out of the way. Luckily for the Saleen, most humans on the road moved over to let an officer past -- strange as it was for said officer to be followed so closely by a lumbering black Topkick and an H2 ambulance. Barricade out-paced them, out-maneuvered them, and could out-run them, and knowing this he darted in and out of traffic, driving recklessly, twisting and turning as often as he could in his effort to lose the dogged team. Damnit, why couldn't they just leave him be?! 

Ironhide's cursing which sizzled through the communication channels gave pretty good directions, though. He wanted the Decepticon't head for the murdered humans, the past kills, any damage and especially - for Bumblebee. 'Whatever you had done to him, slagheap, you'll pay for it tenfold', it came crackling through the waves, and as soon as they left the less populated parts of the highway, another plasma shot boiled the road into a bubbling puddle. 

Ratchet stayed behind, though, he merely watched, hoping Ironhide won't need any help. He had radioed to both Prime and Bee, and they were closing in swiftly. The medic had his slight doubts, though... Bee indeed reacted strangely nowadays when Barricade's name was mentioned. Ratchet couldn't help but feel a little worried. 

Barricade growled. 'I didn't do anything he didn't seek me out for later!' he roared back, screeching around the melted puddle of bubbling asphalt. 'Step off, Autobots!'

As if hollering at them would do any good. The Decepticon knew that if Ironhide ever caught him, he'd be a dead mech; there would be no cages or cells or incarceration. There would be no fair trial amongst his peers or even so much as a waiting period between his capture and his death. If that Topkick caught him, Barricade would die at his hands. The Autobot weapons specialist was especially malicious and did not tolerate crimes against the humans as the Saleen had committed.. 

"I'll step on YOU!" The next threat bounced back immediately, and soon, another signal joined the previous two - this one marked the leader. He was still far, but he was getting nearer by the second. 

The landscape changed swiftly, the signs warned of construction sites and accompanying vehicle traffic nearby - though, those were surely abandoned at this time. 

"Need any help?" Prime's voice reached the Topkick on the internal channel, and Ironhide Sneered. "I need Bee. The little guy is fastest, he could race that fragging son of a glitch in no time... we could end this quickly"

"He is coming," Ratchet mentioned, the unease intensifying in his spark. What if- But that didn't make much sense. Bee wanted Barricade dead, that was for sure. 

The asphalt became dusty as they emerged alongside a construction site. The skeletal beginnings of the building stuck skyward in the form of sharp rod iron, gates and fences and concrete littering the area. Never the type to be put off but an offroad race, Barricade turned and plowed through a section of fencing and tore into the facility. Prime was close by -- _going to die run run run_ \-- and...and Bee was getting close too. _Outrun them til he gets here and he'll stop them._ Doubt flooded his tattered mind. What if Bumblebee...didn't? 

Said scout was, at the moment, completely torn, feeling as if his processors were beginning to split into two. He wanted to be there, naturally, but constantly caught himself slowing down... He couldn't get that. He never _wanted_ to slow down! Part of him was screaming for revenge, twisting in pain and grief, murderous instincts hollering loudly... the another part was in panic, _no, please, I need him, I'll die if he does_ \- urging him to stop the others, to save the Decepticon... And in the end, Bumblebee was left with sheer horror gripping his spark - He was an Autobot, who was considering to save a Deception's life. Or what was left of it. 

The Camaro accelerated again, wailing freely to himself - he could understand Barricade's problem now... probably, his mind was just as jumbled up, as his own. "What should I do, Primus, help me, help me... I want to kill him but I don't want to kill him..." 

Barricade growled to himself, bottoming out continuously as he sped over the uneven ground. Suddenly the ground disappeared from in front of him, and in a panic, the police cruiser slammed on the brakes and slid to an uneasy halt. The dirt had given way to a descending hill, at the bottom of which was the foundation of another building. Slag. Barricade transformed and turned to face his adversaries. 

Ironhide's triumphant cry echoed over the site. The weapons master transformed as well, while Prime and Ratchet stayed behind, giving them enough privacy for a duel - but staying close enough to react quickly should Ironhide get injured. 

"That's it, Decepticrap," the old mech grumbled, crouching low, huge cannons humming up. "End of the road. Your fragging kind will once and for all disappear from this planet. We'll be at peace." 

He would not make this easy. With a rattling snarl the remaining earthbound Decepticon took up a defensive stance, ready to spring away in a moments notice. _Going to die going to take a little bit of HIM WITH ME._ Crouching, Barricade launched himself forward, scrambling low and with startling speed below Ironhide's immediate line of fire. The weapons specialist took a quick step back to re-aim from the shock of being charged by his smaller enemy, but by then it was too late; the desperate Saleen was already in his face, claws swiping and tearing and rendering anything he could get a hold of. 

However, surprise quickly faded - and Ironhide was as good with hand-to-hand combat as with marksmanship. He threw himself back, pulling Barricade with, and rolled, to pin him down. "Nice try- but it'll only prolong your suffering!"

Back in the second line, Prime just reassured Ratchet, that Ironhide will be able to handle the situation, when he picked up the last signal - Bee's. The yellow Camaro pulled up next to the Peterbilt, and the leader noticed, that the slender frame was trembling lightly. 

"How's it going...?" The scout's voice was trembling as well, as if he had to strain his vocalizer.

"Ironhide is dealing with the situation effectively," Optimus replied, keeping his sensors on his scout. "Don't worry, Bumblebee." 

Barricade snarled and kicked viciously at the chest above him. One hand freed itself with a mighty squirm and dug, talons glinting, straight for Ironhide's face. _Kill him kill him KILL HIM BLIND HIM MAIM HIM._ Lashing out with ferocity, the pinned Saleen tore for the bigger Autobot's optics. 

Only his fine-tuned instincts saved the weapons master from loosing half his visual receptors, but the talons still found their way into his faceplate, ripping off a bit. Ironhide cried out in pain, and blindly threw a punch toward his opponent's head. 

"Mad turbofox, that's what you are!" he hissed, and rolled off of the Decepticon, trying to get into a better position for shooting. 

The punch having missed by inches to slam into the dirt, Ironhide's opponent scrabbled back to his feet and crowded the larger Autobot relentlessly, this time deploying the gyroflail and sending it hard and fast for Ironhide's faceplating again. 

"NO!" The cry echoed through all the channels, and Bee transformed. His hands were shaking, itching to shoot - and he realized with horror, that for an astrosecond, he considered aiming at Ironhide. He didn't move, just watched the fight, ventilations heaving. 

That moment of distraction; Barricade drew his weapon back and in that single instant looked away, focusing on the yellow Camaro. His reluctant and hated companion who was more loyal to him than many Decepticons had been. In that single second, Ironhide got the upper hand, backhanding the Saleen to the ground, and at firing distance. Barricade stood shakenly, head spinning, but only launched at his aggressor once more. 

Bee screamed again, just as the weapons master raised his cannon to finish the police cruiser - maybe that made him twitch, for the blast didn't catch Barricade in the chest, eating away layers of armor and extinguishing the spark - but still threw the black and white body backwards- 

\-- right down into the pit itself. Oddly fitting, it was; the Pit was synonymous to the Void, which could be equally compared to the human Hell in Transformer lore. Barricade fell down into the spike-ridden, razor-filled darkness that swallowed his black body whole. The impact was jarring, metal rendered, and with it came a sickening, bloodcurdling screech that had dogs howling a mile away and sent shivers up the Autobot's neural grids. 

Bee screamed the third time, but it was not a warning anymore - pure horror and pain vibrated in his voice. He launched forward, only to be held back by Optimus. The leader had no idea, what could have happened, but he recognized the tone... and he had seen the same scene before, in the past. 

"Bumblebee! Don't!" he commanded, keeping the smaller mech close. He was taken aback, though, when the scout's optics flashed on him.

"Please, Optimus, let me go, let me go to him, please, I beg you...!"

And the leader of the Autobots loosened his grip. He knew this gaze, and he knew that he couldn't do anything else. He just watched as Bee sprinted of, to join Ironhide, who was peering down into the pit below. Ratchet stepped next to Optimus; the leader shot him a questioning glance. 

"I fear we'll loose him," Ratchet confessed. "I should have been more strict... I didn't want to believe that this could happen."

Bumblebee, not paying any attention to Ironhide's alarmed cries, quickly found his way down and among the metal cables and poles protruding from the concrete. Finally, he fell on his knees next to his enemy's body, to survey the damage. 

Agony. 

Barricade arched his back helplessly, his head leaned back against the cold, cracked concrete. Heat and fluid bubbled out of his chest, where his tumble had brought him down squarely upon one crooked, jagged piece of rod iron. The metal itself was not normally a threat to Cybertronian armor, but with such force....it skewered him, inches from his spark, protruding grotesquely from the black armor. Barricade's ventilations were rapid and pained, vague wheezing coming from somewhere within his chest. "B-b.." 

The little scout's vents hitched, and he reached out with a trembling hand, to stroke the spiked helm. "I'm here... 'Cade, dear 'Cade... Primus help me..." This was not like he had imagined it. He thought there will be a fight, much tearing and hacking and shooting, just the two of them. He never expected to survive it, either. And now... His enemy-lover was dieing right before his optics. Bee felt numb. 

It was surreal; almost as bright and hot as his own physical pain the Saleen could feel the Camaro's mental anguish. This hurt the yellow Autobot, to see him like this, even when at the back of his mind he always pondered over Barricade's death. Words escaped the black mechanoid as he stared up at Bumblebee's hovering form. 

The silver-yellow fingers continued to map the spikes and hard edges, and the scout's other hand found the Mustang's, and squeezed it - a gesture, which hardly ever meant something back on Cybertron but here, on Earth, it conveyed much. 

"I didn't mean this... to happen this way." Bee shook his head. He was waiting and dreading this minute, ever since that fateful day. "D-does it... hurt much...?" The question wasn't as stupid as it sounded - too much pain could sort out a transformer's receptors. 

He hissed softly, chrome talons twitching closed around the hand that had clasped it. The police interceptor lifted the other hand, grasping the warped iron protruding morbidly from the grill in his chest, grip faltering. So this was it, hm? This was the end of the line? The end of the pain and the feeling of lost seclusion and the beginning of...something else. Barricade didn't believe in an afterlife anymore. He believed he would die, his spark would extinguish, and that would be the end of that. "It..is f-fading." 

Bumblebee twitched, and lifted the black hand, to rub his faceplate against it. "If I could do something..." He let out a long sigh, shoulders sagging. "I'm not sure I'd do it. I hate you, Barricade. You caused me so much pain... And you caused the same for many others. But ever since you promised me that you'll let me go, and I bared my spark for you... I cannot help but love you as well. I don't know why, this rarely ever happens to our kind, if it happens at all... But I'll mourn your loss until my mind would still be clear." 

It was curious, the feeling of ones receptors short out into numbness. The soul-wracking agony was dissipating now into nothingness, allowing him only to feel the invasive sense of the foreign metal buried into his chest. Barricade's spark fluttered and blinked uncertainly, whining, reaching out for the comforting presence nearby. 

"Say something, 'Cade... please." Bee leaned forward, close to that hated and beloved, black face, until their foreheads and chest armors touched. It was an awkward contact, the pole was in the way... But the scout was not about to shy away. "I wish... I wish this played out peacefully. If only you could have let go of your hate... Or if I had refused your offer." 

Bumblebee filled his vision. With a warbling sigh, the Saleen S281 lifted his other hand and rested it on the yellow back, tips of taloned fingers toying with the joints to doorwings. So many times had he touched and played, though no pleasure were to be gained from this night. Still, no words left the black Decepticon's vocalizer. 

At that moment, that kissing thing the humans did seemed so appropriate. Bee arched his back into the touch, soaking it up, relishing in it. The scout's fingers crept to the skewered chest, gently mapping out the metal for the last time, like so many other occasions. 

"Are you happy now, 'Cade...? I'll follow you soon... wherever you may go. Maybe there... the pain won't matter." 

"F-follow me?" came the questioning warble. His systems were shutting down rapidly now. "What do you mean?" 

"To death. I'll die as well - what is there left for me?" Bee was solemn, relaxed - he had long accepted his fate. "I'll go mad, like you did... I hope Prime will have mercy on me, and shoots me before I do any damage." He paused. "Energy does not dissolve into nothing. Our sparks go somewhere... We'll meet there. Just as you'll meet your comrades. I'll be able to see Jazz... it won't be bad." He chuckled a little. 

Barricade only looked up at his lover, inches away. "I do not believe in the afterlife," he stated quietly. "And if there is something else, I will not be going where you are." 

"We are not that different. I killed many Cons... And if you go back to the roots... we're the same race. And since Sam is at the place humans go to... who will be there for me if not you?" 

"Jazz." The answer was simple, straight, and to the point. Hushed, however...Barricade was _so_ tired. 

"But I want YOU to be there for me, damn it..." Bee tilted his head forward, until his vocalizer touched Barricade's mouth. "Stupid Con. Not getting the hints." There was a pause again, then a barely audible whisper. "I don't want to be lonely anymore... Stay with me, 'Cade...!" 

Why was it taking so long? The Ford Mustang idly mused on it, more in control of himself now than he had been in weeks. _Ironic_. Barricade blinked his ever-dimming optics once as their 'mouths' touched, and he nibbled in response. "I can't." 

"I know... I know. I'm sorry." A series of soft clicks followed the confession. 

The Saleen sighed softly, ventilations slowing to nearly nothing. He missed the way things were. The _Nemesis_. Frenzy. Even Blackout's bullying attacks that always ended in such pleasure. Megatron's command, Bonecrusher's hate, Starscream's treachery...all of it. Chrome claws stroked and petted, and then began to still. 

"'Cade... 'Cade, no... please, don't leave me." But the begging was weak and without any passion - there was nothing to change, the unavoidable end closed on both of them. Bee wished that he could cry; if only he could somehow purge that searing pain from the inside, which melted everything... It would be so good, a moment of peace after all the tension and agony. But transformers don't shed tears. He had to deal with this hollowly echoing emptiness alone. 

The spark within an ebony chassis stopped its scintillation, stilling almost in shock within the battered chamber. The fingers stopped, the nibbling upon Bee's vocal piece ceased, and Barricade's optics flickered. Seconds away from death, his last breath literally spent, the black and white's body relaxed as feeling rushed out of him and he felt like he was falling.

"I love you."

And that was all; the last words to exit the jagged and terrible mouth in a voice so soft that it was nearly unbefitting. Before a reply could have been issued Barricade stilled completely and died, head leaning back against the concrete as the red embers sputtered out and his very being ceased, so utterly, to exist.

There was silence and time seemed to stop; Bumblebee had no idea how long he was sitting there, staring into those cold, dark optics, while his enemy-lover's last words were echoing in his head. His Spark's pulses pumped sharp pain thought his fuel lines instead of energy; the scout didn't scream, didn't wail but didn't move, either. 

Finally, his hand reached out, yellow fingers curling around the rod sticking out of the dark chest, and Bee broke it off with little effort. The lock of his armor clicked open. He wondered if it'll hurt much-

A hand caught his. "Bumblebee, no!"

The scout looked up, straight to Ratchet's optics. "I can't stay," he said quietly. "Sam's dead, he's dead too… He loved me. He shed the Decepticon and-"

"Don't insult the deceased!" Ratchet snapped. "Barricade never stopped being a proud Decepticon warrior, not even in his final moment. He just admitted what he felt for you. Honor him, and don't stop being an Autobot, Bee. Autobot warriors never stop until they have something to do."

"Nobody needs me," Bee said. Ratchet's optics flashed – the look in them was the equivalent of falling to one's knees, writhe on the ground and beg desperately. 

"We do," he whispered. "We don't want to loose you. Little Bee, stay with us…! Let us try…! And the humans- you did so well as their protector, they could still use your help. Honor Barricade's persistence with your own." 

Bumblebee stared down at the sharp-ended rod iron in his hand. Should he… stay? Being an Autobot without the ones, he loved… Oh. That was not perfectly true. He loved the others as well, Prime, Ratchet, Ironhide. And this world… and the humans.

He subspaced the rod, and nodded to the medic, noticing the hope flaring up in his optics. The scout had no hope; he knew he would die, eventually. A little delay was nothing.

Barricade didn't give up, either; he fought with the madness. And Bumblebee thought, he could do that, too. He'll stay and fight.

Until the day his mind becomes perfectly twisted.

 

The End


End file.
